Tale of a Time Long Gone
by Star of the North
Summary: We all know of them, for without them where would Hogwarts be? Bold Gryffindor, Fair Ravenclaw, Sweet Hufflepuff, Shrewd Slytherin. Founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. complete
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Hello, there! This is the second fic I uploaded to This one has nothing whatsoever to do with my other story _The Story of Four Friends_. This one tells of the Founders of Hogwarts and I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

Fear not! I haven't abandoned _The Story of Four Friends_! No, it will be going as scheduled, and since I didn't have time enough to finish writing the next chapter, it will be updated as promised on Saturday, September 4th.

I hope this fic will keep all readers of _Four Friends_ occupied till Chapter 15 is up...

Read, enjoy, review and make my day!

**Tale of a Time Long Gone**

**Prologue**

_"In the long history of the Wizarding World, which stretches to the Dawn of Time, there are two wizards and two witches who will forever be renowned and celebrated all across the world in all magical communities._

_"These four are the ones, who, against all odds and against all the strongest of wizards of their time, strove for excellence and the education of children in the fine arts of magic._

_"Their names will be engraved for eternity in the pages of history:_

_"Rowena Ravenclaw of the Glen,_

_"Helga Hufflepuff of Caerwyn Valley,_

_"Godric Gryffindor of Wild Moor,_

_"Salazar Slytherin of the Fen._

_"Founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Rowena wiped her dirty hands on her apron. Mother was sure to come looking for her before long, so she had to make the most of the little stolen time she managed to procure.

She was standing on the banks of a shallow stream. The ground was covered in the thin frost of early winter, but right on the edge of the bank, the mud from yesterday's rain was deep and sticky.

The fifteen-year-old girl gathered her skirts up above her ankles, chewed her lower lip for a moment, contemplating whether it was really the wisest thing to do, then she took a deep breath and walked into the icy stream.

_You had better be there, Helga, or I will have your head for it._ She thought.

Helga Hufflepuff lived down in Caerwyn Valley, a few miles away from Rowena's home in the narrow ravine usually referred to as the Glen.

The Glen was very long and very narrow and thickly forested. Where it was not full of trees, it was a collection of lush meadows crisscrossed by small, clear streams. It opened at its widest point into Caerwyn Valley.

Caerwyn Valley was rather flat and had very few trees. Most of its meadows were cultivated and made into fertile fields.

Helga lived in the village of Culhwch and was the resident midwife's youngest daughter. She had three older sisters, two older brothers and another younger brother. She was naturally good-hearted and was kind to all – people and beasts alike. She had long golden locks and eyes so dark-blue in colour they seemed black at times. She was always cheerful and was easygoing. Rowena often wondered how one person could be this happy.

Especially as Helga needed to hide things from her own family. Being discovered had only one meaning: Death.

When she was younger, Rowena was jealous of Helga's looks. The other girl was two years younger than her, yet always looked more mature and beautiful than she could ever be, so she felt.

These days, however, she came into conclusion that not even magic could change her auburn curls and hazel eyes.

Rowena stumbled on a loose tree root as she climbed out of the stream, muttering profanities she learned from the wagoneers passing through Culhwch. Mother would wash her mouth with soap were she to hear her only child talking like that.

_Why have I agreed to do this?_ She thought bitterly, bending to see if any damage was made. Satisfied, she looked around her carefully, making sure no one was in sight, and drew out of the wide sleeve of her gown a long, thin stick made of holly. She whispered a few well-chosen words and her wet shoes dried up instantly.

Indeed, Rowena Ravenclaw was a witch. She came from a long line of witches and wizards. That was the reason behind her isolated home. No one lived in the Glen – just a few shepherds, goatherds and the Ravenclaws. For in those times, being of the magic world meant death, which also explained why Helga Hufflepuff had to keep quiet concerning her particular talents.

Rowena's mother found out about Helga's magic on one of her few visits in the village and immediately took her under her wing. Under the pretext of wishing a friend for her daughter, she invited Helga often to the Glen and there the two girls studied magic side by side.

With a sigh, Rowena put her wand back into the sleeve of her dress and trudged on in the muddy ground. Earlier that morning, Helga's owl, Afanen, came in carrying a note asking her to come as soon as possible to their usual meeting point. Rowena knew it was pointless to remind her young friend that walking to the valley in winter was not a nice experience. She would just shrug it off.

Their "usual" meeting place was a large oak tree just outside the mouth of the Glen. In summer they climbed up to its tallest branches and competed in throwing acorns (and woe betides Rowena if Mother was ever to find out). The two were often scolded by passers-by who were unintentionally pelted by those acorns.

In winter, however, it was a very gloomy tree indeed, dripping water all over them. And that was exactly what it had done to Rowena at that very moment. She uttered another long string of curses.

"Now really, Raven! What would your mother say?" A clear voice, bubbling with ill-suppressed laughter, asked.

Rowena whirled around to face Helga. "Mother is not going to hear about it, now is she, Helga?"

The cheerful thirteen-year-old grinned. "Of course not, dear girl! It would take the fun out of teasing you and holding it over your head for eternity."

"You are a vicious one, Helga Hufflepuff." Rowena said sourly. "What was so important that you had to drag me all the way from the Glen right after first frost? And I warn you, it had better be good, or I will hex you to Hades before you can utter another word."

"Oh, it _is_ good, Raven! I promise!" Helga said enthusiastically. "There are People in the village!"

Whatever Helga was expecting, Rowena's reaction was not it. The older girl stared at her friend, her eyebrows raised. "And? There are always people in the village, Helga – that is the _meaning_ of a village. A place where people live in."

Helga shook her head. "Not _village_ people, Raven! Don't be a daft sow! _Real_ people! People from far away. _Adventurers_. _Two_ of them!"

"That's it? That is why I dragged myself five miles in horrible weather? That is why I had my petticoats and skirts wet? That is why I risked a month's worth of confinement to the house? For _travelers_?"

"Err... yes? But, Raven! You _have_ to come and see them! They are so fine! They carry _swords_! And their clothes! Such finery you had never seen! Gold embroidery and emeralds and rubies and silver filigree and velvets and silks and rings and medallions and-"

Rowena held up her hand and Helga closed her mouth. "Enough! Alright, Helga! I'll come with you! But this is the last time! Understand?"

"Yes, Raven." Helga replied demurely.

"And you promise to be good and to never bother me again with such trifles?"

"Yes, Raven."

"And will you never _ever_ again call me right after first frost just for travelers?"

Yes, Raven."

"Will you swear it?"

"Yes, Raven."

"Good. Let's go."

Happy, Helga led the way into the village.

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Helga knew Rowena hated to be in the village over long periods of time, but she also decided that _this_ was not an event to be missed. Travelers from far away never came to Culhwch. The village was far too small and far too insignificant for people from foreign places to reach it.

And the pair that had arrived the previous day... Helga was correct when she told Rowena she had never seen such finery in her life.

They both looked roughly in their early twenties. Both were used to much better conditions than those offered in Culhwch's only inn, The Bear Spear, but made best with what they had.

The elder of the two was long and thin. He had a rather pallid complexion and his eyelids were drooped in exhaustion. The two explained it as the aftermath of a hard-illness overcome.

He had long, shiny black hair tied in a ponytail and matching black eyes.

His garb was mainly green: Forest green cloak, sea green tunic covered by a dull green velvet vest, pale green overcoat and emerald green breeches tucked into a pair of curious dark green boots made of a strange sort of animal hide.

Where he didn't have green, he had silver. His cloak was trimmed by a silver thread and clasped by a snake-shaped silver brooch. His tunic was fastened by a belt made of the same material as his boots and ended with another silver, snake-head-shaped buckle. Inside his tunic he tucked a thin silver necklace. Helga wasn't sure, but she thought he had another snake-shape as a medallion.

He rode into Culhwch on a large, hazel gelding and had, curled on his arm, a small pet snake.

His companion was taller than him, and even though his shoulders were much broader, he managed to look a lot leaner. He had a black mane of hair and the hint of a beard. His fierce eyes were bright blue and he had the uncanny tendency of looking people straight in the eye when he spoke to them – a habit that disconcerted many.

While his friend was garbed in green and silver, he was in red and gold: His long tunic was scarlet, gold-embroidered brocade, belted at the waist by a belt of the same hide as his friend's belt, only of a dark orange colour and a buckle shaped as the head of a roaring lion. His undershirt was a pale rose with golden cuffs. His trousers were rich dark red and his boots made of the same dark orange hide. On his belt hung a mighty silvery sword, its hilt covered by large, glittering rubies, the scabbard made of that dark orange hide and inlaid with gold filigree. He was covered by a dark scarlet cloak, clasped at the throat by a vast brooch, shaped as a lion.

His own steed was an enormous palomino stallion, whose harness was made of red velvet and his saddle inlaid with gold.

Helga had never seen such people and wanted to share all the excitement with her best friend.

"There you are, Helga!" Alis called. Alis was one of Helga's friends from the village and the least resentful towards Rowena. "Oh. Hello to you, too, Rowena."

The village girls disliked Rowena. Her clothes were always slightly threadbare and her hair was always untamed. She also cursed a lot and drank cider and ale like a man. She once punched a girl called Gwyneth after the older girl called her a tramp.

"Hello, Alis. Have you been looking for me?" Helga replied, heading off what was sure to become a fight if Rowena had picked up Alis' down-looking tone of speech, a thing she was sure to notice.

"Yes – we all have. Eirian just went to your house – did you not see her?"

"No. Raven and I just arrived from the Outskirts."

"Oh, I suppose that explains it. Just a moment – let me call the others. Hefina! Llwella! Mairwen! Gwyneth! Helga's here – and Rowena."

Casting dark glances in Rowena's direction, the four girls arrived there in a matter of seconds, soon to be joined by Eirian – slightly out of breath.

"Well? What did you want?" Rowena said. Helga flinched at her impatient tone. She had no more tolerance toward the village girls than they had to her.

"Nothing to do with _you_, Ravencrow." Gwyneth said spitefully.

"It's Raven_claw_, you-" Rowena seethed.

"Gwyneth, please?" Helga begged, knowing that Rowena hated her name being slighted.

Grumbling, Gwyneth abated. Alis took over. "The People came down from their rooms not an hour ago – we thought you should know! They are so lovely!" She gushed.

From the corner of her eye, Helga could see Rowena rolling her eyes. _Maybe bringing her along was not such a good idea after all_, she thought.

"Come on!" Alis said excitedly. "Let's go and have a look! We were waiting just for you!"

With Alis in the lead and Rowena at the back, the eight girls entered The Bear Spear.

It was nothing unusual to see girls as young as twelve in the village inn. The place was the only source of entertainment around there and all citizens of Culhwch often sat there just for the company.

The girls settled next to a table in a corner from which they could watch the two travelers eating their lunch just opposite of them.

It was not long, though, until trouble began. The door to the inn was opened, and two figures entered. There was no doubt about where they were heading. Their eyes were permanently fixed on the travelers, excepting a fleeting glance one of them gave to Helga.

The girl paled and clutched her best friend's arm. Rowena also watched the two figures as they relentlessly closed in on the two men. She, too, had no doubt of their intentions.

Gunhild and Sigmund Hufflepuff wanted a husband for their youngest daughter.

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Godric Gryffindor twiddled his knife idly and looked at the remains of his lunch. He and Salazar, his best friend, had a long trip up till then and an even longer one ahead of them.

His blue eyes locked on Salazar, who was still eating. It was good that he was doing so. His illness had taken a lot out of him and his recovery was too slow to Godric's liking.

Salazar was three years older than him, but Godric sometimes felt that it was the other way around. He often found himself mothering Salazar and making sure he actually took care of himself.

He looked around and spotted the pair bearing down on them. "We've got company, Salazar." He whispered, barely moving his lips whilst doing so.

Salazar put down his knife and wiped his hands carefully on a handkerchief he pulled out of nowhere. "I wonder what they want from us." He said dully, knowing full-well that whatever the couple wanted was _not_ going to be good for them.

"Either one out of two things." Godric replied just as dully. "Either marriage to their daughter or squire-ship for their son."

"Marriage." Salazar said immediately. "I've seen the woman glancing at that group of giggling girls next to that table."

"Merlin's beard! Just what we didn't need on this voyage."

"Be quiet, Godric. Anybody could have heard you."

"Sorry, Mother."

Salazar made a warning sound at the back of his throat. Godric smirked at him, but then turned to face the couple with a polite expression.

"Good afternoon, noble sirs." The man greeted and bowed. His wife curtseyed.

"Good afternoon." Salazar, as the eldest, acknowledged, followed closely by Godric's small nod of head. "How may my friend and I assist you?"

"I am Sigmund Hufflepuff, and this is my wife, Gunhild. We have a query for the two of you fine gentlemen."

"Very well. We shall hear your request. I am Salazar Slytherin, and this is my friend and companion, Godric Gryffindor."

"Noble sirs, our youngest daughter is of ripe age for marriage, yet through certain misfortunes we have yet to find her a suitable husband." Sigmund said. "She is a well educated girl, and can sew, make fine embroidery, sheer sheep, comb wool, milk cows, cure leather, make cheese, churn butter, take care of household pets, weave, spin wool-"

He was cut short by Salazar's raised hand. "With all due respect, Master Hufflepuff, my companion and I are not here to look for a wife."

"Are you already spoken for a lady, Lord Slytherin?" Gunhild asked straightforwardly. Godric could see that this woman was used to have her will.

Salazar understandably was taken aback. "No, Madam Hufflepuff. I am not spoken for any girl, but-"

"Then what harm will it be to take our Helga for a wife?"

Godric thanked Merlin that the woman's attention was not pointed at _him_. She was pushing Salazar into a very tight corner.

"Just come and see her, my lords." Sigmund begged. "I can have her here in a minute's time!"

Salazar looked at Godric desperately and mouthed "_Do something!_"

He sighed and leaned closer to the Hufflepuff couple. "Very well," He said, painfully aware that the Madam's attention swerved from Salazar to him. "Bring her here. We will have a look. But bear in mind, Madam, that it is not a promise. We are bound on a perilous and long journey and cannot guarantee our return."

"Helga!" Gunhild raised her voice "Come here this minute!"

Godric watched the corner where the girls were sitting. There were eight of them – all between the ages of twelve and sixteen. There was a reluctant movement in the shadows around the table. Someone was whispering urgently and quite desperately. Someone else replied sharply only to be cut off by the same urgent whisper. Finally there was some kind of decision made, and two of the eight girls got up and approached them sedately, one clutching the arm of the other in obvious fright.

"Helga!" Gunhild hissed. "When I tell you to be here immediately, I mean just that! And did I tell you that you can bring a friend? I don't remember doing so!"

The girl named Helga whimpered at her mother's scolding, clutching the other girl's arm even tighter.

"This is our daughter, noble sirs. Her name is Helga and she is thirteen. She can sew, make fine embroidery-"

Yes, yes, we know." Salazar said impatiently, covering Godric's strangled "_Thirteen_?!"

Once he regained his composure, Godric observed the two girls standing in front of them.

The one called Helga, whom her parents wished married, was very pretty – that much he could say, but whatever beauty she possessed was now disguised by the look of complete fear in her dark eyes. The way her hand clutched her friend's arm was evidence enough to how much she dreaded the idea of marriage.

Now, the friend, on the other hand...

Helga was as dolled up as a country girl could be. Her clothes were of impeccable taste and were ironed and decorated. She was everything her friend was not.

The other girl's clothes were mostly well-worn and gave the impression of being of the hand-me-down sort. Her shoes (apparent beneath the too-short skirts of her dress – very unladylike) were made for durance rather than for show.

In her wild mane of auburn hair were brambles and leaves. There was a smudge of dried mud on her cheek.

It was her eyes, however, which caught his attention. They were narrowed and seemed to tell him with every fiber of their existence: _How _dare_ you scare my friend so?_

He did not know he was staring at her until Salazar's voice brought him back to reality.

"Now that you have paraded the poor girl for us to see, send her away before she faints right here and now."

Salazar was never one for subtlety when annoyed. They both watched as the Hufflepuff couple sent their daughter away.

"Well?" Gunhild demanded almost before the girl was out of hearing range.

"Your daughter is a fine catch, have no doubt concerning that, Madam," Salazar said quietly, his hand petting his small snake's head "But as we were saying, we are not here in search for a bride, but merely passing through."

"But you _will_ consider it?" She pressed on.

"Yes, yes, we will. Come, Godric. We have a long journey in front of us. I am sure we will see you again, Madam, sir. Good day to you both."

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Salazar was grateful that Godric did not start his rant till they were in the safety of their room. It was bad enough to hear it by himself – he could not imagine the Hufflepuffs reaction, were they to hear his companion's colourful language.

"Thirteen? _Thirteen_?! What do they think we are? Baby snatchers?! They are a pair of demented creatures! They want a twenty year old to marry their baby? What kind of parents does such a thing?! What kind of-"

"Peace, Godric!" He sighed. "This is not our society. How many times do I have to remind you that? We live longer and therefore can allow our daughters to marry late – they can't. And even in our own society most people are not as progressive in their ideas as you are."

"Yes, but _thirteen_!"

"Quiet. Besides – I saw you stare. You were interested in her friend, were you not?"

"The wild one? She seemed kind of out of place – that was why I was staring. Quite the opposite of this Helga girl. And anyway – she can't be older than thirteen herself _and_ she is not of our kind – so that makes her out of bounds."

"Sounds to me like you are looking for excuses, my friend." Salazar smirked, enjoying teasing Godric.

"Leave that be, Salazar. We're moving further west from here?" Godric asked hurriedly. Salazar could swear he saw him blush.

"North. We're heading home."

"What?! But what about the mission?"

"Look at the window."

He watched as Godric turned to face the window. The shutters were open and revealed a tawny owl hovering just outside. Godric then groaned and walked over to receive the message tied to the owl's leg.

"Well?" Salazar said "Was I wrong? Or do they order us back?"

Godric made a face and read aloud: "Lords Slytherin and Gryffindor,

"You are hereby summoned to face the Council of Warlocks. Leave everything – your mission included, and come back.

"We expect your arrival no later than midwinter's eve."

"That's it?" Salazar was surprised. "Have they not given a reason? No one signed the order? Nothing?"

"I didn't say that." Godric said churlishly. This made Salazar worried. Godric was usually a cheerful fellow – quick-tempered – but cheerful nonetheless. Godric continued. "It is signed by Lord Ambrosius. Contender to the head of the Council."

"The one who claims to be Merlin's descendent?"

"Precisely. The one and only. The fraud himself. So it's back to the swamps for us, my friend."

Salazar sighed. He knew how much Godric detested the moors and fens that were their home. "There's nothing to it, Godric. We must oblige to the will of the Council."

"Indeed."


	2. The Dictation of Fate

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Wow. I have just arrived back home after a mind-numbing, body-abusing trip and opened my email and saw all your wonderful reviews and felt like hugging you all. Thank you!

If anyone who reads this is a _The Story of Four Friends_ reader, chapter 15 will be uploaded either later on today, or as on schedule, tomorrow.

So here we go, chapter one of the story...

**Chapter 1 – The Dictation of Fate**

_"During the tenth century, the witches and wizards of Britain lived under a shadow of fear. The non-magical community, more commonly known as Muggles, was very aware of the supernatural and abhorred its very existence. _

_"Many of the magical community were persecuted and often killed – by fire, by hanging or by drowning._

_"The reader must remember that at that time, the Bubble-Head Charm and the Flame Freezing Charm were yet to be discovered, thus most of those executions were successful._

_"To fight these persecutions, the magical community founded the Council of Warlocks – an establishment that would create a separate world for the magical community – hidden from the eyes of Muggles._

_"The Council succeeded in creating the protected environments, but as soon as that goal was achieved, like many other political institutions, the Council's main aims turned to the well-being of the representative warlocks and their friends and families. They stopped caring for the Wizarding World as a whole and the natural procedures of life stood still. _

_"Magic-capable children were left to fend for themselves, and those of Muggle heritage were not notified of their abilities. This often resulted in death..."_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

_Five years later..._

"Find Rosalind Ravenclaw and bring her to face the Councilor face the consequences – who does he think he is?!" A livid Godric Gryffindor mimicked Lord Ambrosius, Chief Warlock of the Council of Warlocks.

He and Salazar were going back to Caerwyn Valley for the first time in five years. They were commanded to bring a witch by the name of Rosalind Ravenclaw to the Council gathering at Stonehenge. For what reason, they were not sure.

"Who _is_ this Rosalind?" Salazar asked, attempting to mollify his enraged friend.

"Supposedly she is a great Charmer and one of the only people to master travel by magic. I heard from Calanthe – remember that witch from the Loch? The one who tried to seduce you? Anyway, I heard from her that Rosalind Ravenclaw has been working in the past few years on a method to turn travel by magic a lot simpler for less able wizards. I suppose-"

"Wait, wait, wait-" Salazar stopped the flow of Godric's speech. "Back up a moment - What were you doing with Calanthe?"

"Nothing." He replied innocently. "I keep in touch with her every time I pass in the Loch."

Salazar narrowed his eyes. He was not sure he entirely believed Godric. "So what do you think Ambrosius has to do with this Charmer?"

"I have no idea. I will tell you one thing, though. Whatever it is he wants – it's very bad for this Rosalind woman. He has been gathering talented wizards and witched lately and no one knows what for or what happens to them after the Council had them brought in front of him. Did Ambrosius tell you where she lives?"

"He only told me she was somewhere in Caerwyn Valley – nothing else. There are quite a few villages there, so I suppose we'll have to go from village to village and search for her. If you ask me – she might not even be alive anymore with all the prejudice going on in Caerwyn these days and the Council not caring about the lives of 'common' members of the magic community."

"Quite possible, I'm afraid. Oh, Salazar? Please let's not get into Culhwch."

"Why?"

"Do you not remember, Salazar? The girl? The one they pressed us to marry? The thirteen year old one? We never did reject them."

"Oh! I forgot! It _was_ five years ago, you know – she is probably happily married and has a dozen whelps by now."

"That is not a nice word. I think you took a fancy to her back then, eh?"

"Godric!" Salazar scolded. "I barely looked at the poor thing! I will have none of that from you! I am still your elder – whether you like it or not!"

Godric sniggered. "Yes, Salazar. I know you are older than me – you never let me forget – never have, never will. You have twenty eight years of experience in this world and I have only twenty five – I bow before you, greatest of the Fen People, He Who Wallows in Mud."

"Quiet, you." Salazar hit him playfully on the shoulder. "Hand me your map, will you?"

Godric pulled a rolled up map from one of his saddlebags and handed it to him. "What do you need the map for?"

"I don't really remember the way to Caerwyn. Were we supposed to go left in the second fork after that last town? Or was it right?"

"Left. Now let's get going. I'm freezing my-"

"Godric!" Salazar tried to sound exasperate. Godric, unlike many wizards of his station, tended to resort to the rougher, more common side of language. He had a very colourful vocabulary and Salazar – to his horror - has recently started picking up a lot of it.

"Sorry, sorry, I won't do it again. How far is it to the Valley?"

"It'll probably take us the better part of three days. I am really going to hex Ambrosius next time I see him – sending us out in the middle of winter."

"Hey! I told you we should have hexed him before we left! But goody-goody _Salazar_ had to be all _noble_ about it and tell me that it's _wrong_."

"Well, I am your elder, and it is my responsibility-"

"Oh, stuff your responsibilities up your arse, will you? That man _asks_ to be hexed – you know it as well as I do. And don't bother arguing! I know you too well and can read you like an open book – down to the most grubby and grimy corners of your _impeccable_ soul."

Salazar made a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat and went back to consulting the map.

"That's your answer to _everything_." Godric huffed indignantly.

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Godric and Salazar finally reached the first of the Caerwyn Valley villages, a small place called Bronwen Field. It was (In Godric's words) bloody freezing and not even the many-layered Warming Charms they cast repeatedly could take the edge out of the bite of frost.

"You know," Godric began conversationally, "For the past three hours I've been contemplating the best way to turn a man into a donkey-eared radish."

"Indeed?" Salazar replied dryly. "And may I hazard a guess concerning the identity of that man?"

"You have one guess."

"Thought as much. Look, Godric, dwelling on it will do you no good. Let's... let's just concentrate on our mission, all right?"

"How can I just forget about it? Salazar – we both know that our credentials are far better than his. We both can trace our ancestors as far back as the second century. All _he_ does is _claim_ he's Merlin's descendent. Where is the proof? Where is the family tree? He has none – and yet he treats us like dirt. What right does he has to send us here like some snot-nosed apprentices?"

"He has the Council backing him up, Godric." Salazar said in the air of someone who has explained the same thing over and over again. "It was just our misfortune that both our fathers died when we were too young to assume their places in the Council. Now let it go, please."

Godric grumbled a bit, but complied. They had discussed this before. Both men were offspring to two of the most powerful Wizarding Families in the magic community. It was traditional for such families to have a representative in the Council of Warlocks. However, the number of seats in the Council was limited and when both Gawain Gryffindor and Searlas Slytherin were killed with only a short interval between them twenty years before, both Godric and Salazar were too young to replace their fathers. Two members of weaker and less noble families joined in their steads, barring Godric and Salazar from joining back and continuing the work of their fathers.

The two young men headed to the village center and cornered a random villager. Upon hearing the name _Ravenclaw_, the man shied away from them and made signs to ward off the devil, giving no answer. So did the next three people they tried to question.

"Interesting reaction." Salazar said softly as they rode out of the village, empty-handed.

"Obviously this mission is not to be as simple as we had hoped." Godric frowned. "There's something fishy about this. Do you reckon the villagers know the Ravenclaws are not Muggles?"

"It's a possibility, but we can't take it as a fact till we have some proof of it."

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Two days later they were about to give up. They had combed Caerwyn Valley thoroughly and Rosalind Ravenclaw was nowhere to be found. In every village they had entered there was one out of two reactions: The frightened look and the sign against evil, or complete bewilderment. No one seemed to want to tell them anything.

"Only one more place to visit, Godric. After this – Madam Ravenclaw or not – I'm heading back to Stonehenge. I have had enough of this wretched climate." Salazar said on the morning it started to snow, blowing his nose on his handkerchief. "What wouldn't I give right now for an Anti-Cold Potion..."

"Is that one place named Culhwch?"

"I am afraid so."

Godric sighed. "Let's go. The sooner we get it done with the better."

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The pair rode into Culhwch late that evening. The snow fell heavily on the ground, and they were grateful for the prospect of a warm bed and meal.

They received neither.

Everything went as planned in the beginning. The owner of the Bear Spear had a room to spare, and a hot stew cooking in the kitchen. He also seemed to remember them from five years prior and was very friendly.

They had just finished haggling for the charged price and settled to wait for their dinner, when Godric caught sight of a man he recognized, sitting by himself next to the closest table, drinking a pint of ale.

"Hello, there! You are Master Hufflepuff, are you not?"

Sigmund Hufflepuff raised his head. Both Godric and Salazar were astounded to see the redness of his eyes and his bloated face – the signs of intensive alcohol abuse. The five years that had passed were not kind to this man.

"Do I know you?" He demanded.

"We've shortly met five years ago – when my companion and I first passed here. How is your daughter...Helga, I think her name was? Safely married I assume?"

Up till then Salazar was not aware of the background noise in the inn – the sound of cheerful talk, laughter and clinking of cutlery. Only when it was cut off so abruptly he missed it. Something here was not right.

"I don't have a daughter." Master Hufflepuff growled.

"Oh, but of course you do!" Godric continued in the same cheerful tone. Salazar wished he could cast a Silencing Charm on his friend. The man could be so _thick_ at times. "You even wanted one of us to-"

"Listen, you great fool!" Hufflepuff burst, pulling Godric to face him by the front of his tunic, catching him by surprise. "I'm telling you I have no daughter!"

He then released him and strode off.

Godric and Salazar both stared at him in amazement. The silence was then broken by a feminine voice, bitter and cold.

"Good job, the pair of you. Reminding him of that – that _witch_."

"Witch?" The two asked in unison, exchanging glances and then turning to look at the young woman who spoke. She was vaguely familiar to them both, but they could not quite place her.

"Oh, yes. A _witch_. I was a friend of hers – as much as I am ashamed to admit it. I should have noticed the signs! It was entirely that Raven girl's fault! That _Rowena_. She was always whispering in her ear – it was _she_ who turned her from the path of righteousness! It was she who goaded her to worship the Evil One! Oh, we knew she was weird – but never in our lives did we imagine we had such wickedness in our midst!"

"Raven girl? Who is she?" Salazar asked slowly, understanding dawning on his face.

"I remember the two of you. You came here a few years back – you must have seen her – never away from _her_ elbow. Always whispering and never giving her a moment's peace. She convinced her to push us all away. She told her she was her only friend – that all of us wanted to harm her."

"I don't recall-" He began, only to be interrupted.

"You mean that wild-looking girl, don't you?" Godric exclaimed. "The one resembling a haystack?"

"That's her, alright." The woman said disdainfully. "That _Ravencrow_ girl. She once punched me-"

"Ravencrow? Surely you don't mean Raven_claw_, do you?" Salazar asked in alarm.

"You know them?" The woman asked in suspicion.

Before Salazar had the chance to stamp on Godric's foot or something after that fashion to stop him from talking, Godric said. "_Know_ them? We have been looking for them for days! Where can we find them?"

If the silence after Master Hufflepuff's departure was profound, it was nothing in compare to the one spreading after that question.

"Get out." The owner of the inn hissed after the moment of shock had passed. "Get out and never come back! You are the servants of evil if you are looking for _those_ people. Thank goodness we've managed putting our hands on the man-witch – _he_ won't be consorting with the Evil One any more. Get out! _GET OUT!_"

They did not need any further prompting. It was quite obvious to them both to what a nest of vipers they had walked into. Without another word they went out, mounted their horses and rode out of the village with angry shouts behind them.

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"You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you?" Salazar said glumly that night as they huddled as near as they could to their miserable fire under the shelter of a few trees.

"I'm sorry." Godric said sadly. "I suppose I was too alarmed to think rationally. They killed someone, you know. The man-witch. I suppose they meant that girl's father. Burnt him or drowned him is my bet."

"Burnt him, probably. It's becoming more popular these days – The Muggles decided it was better – leave the occasional wizard or witch they _do_ catch no room for escape. It's getting ridiculous." Salazar said in a depressed tone. "We _have_ to protect ourselves from the Muggles. They just can't let us live in pe- what is it?" He stopped, seeing Godric's raised hand.

His friend put a finger to his lips, then pointed to his ear and then to the direction they came from. He also had his wand out and carefully aimed it in that same direction.

Alarmed, Salazar pulled out his own wand and tried to listen for any suspicious sounds and see movements of someone hidden. Godric's hearing was far better than his, but his eyesight was better.

She tried her best to get there silently and unnoticed, but she had not taken into count their being beings whose talents could put them in mortal danger and were always on edge. She certainly did not expect Godric pouncing on her from the dark and pushing her to the ground, pointing his wand to her throat when he did.

"Very well, Godric," Salazar said dryly. "You have had your fun. Let's see who this person is. _Lumos_." His wand flared suddenly, making the girl on the ground close her eyes protectively. She looked about eighteen, and judging by the way her hair was made – as yet unmarried. She, too, seemed familiar.

"Please don't hurt me!" She whimpered, covering her face with both arms.

"Oh, _I_ won't hurt you," Salazar almost purred, "But I cannot speak for Godric here. See, he really doesn't like being sneaked up on, and he was really annoyed today. I'm sure you understand - we really dislike hearing about our people being burnt to death because of a Muggle whim."

"_Please!_" She begged. "I – I came here to tell you something important – Mother comes to check up on me every night – I don't have time to waste! Please!"

"What do you think, Godric?"

Godric glared at the girl, but release her. "Well?" He demanded.

"I... I am Alis. I was – I _am_ – a friend of Helga's."

"Helga Hufflepuff?"

"Ye- yes."

"She's a witch." It was not a question.

"That's what everybody thinks. Two years ago, when she turned sixteen, Gwyneth – that's the woman that talked to you in the inn today – just for a lark, pushed her off one of the stones not far from the village where we used to play as children – and she – she just _floated_ down – wasn't even the least bit hurt! And some of the girls – well, we were all taught from birth that anything unnatural is the work of the devil – and that was unnatural! No one could have done such a thing without the help of the Evil One!" She sniffed and looked at them fearfully. "You are man-witches, are you not?"

"If we are, it has nothing to do with your story." Salazar said sharply before Godric could say anything. "Get on with it. For all we know you are a decoy sent to distract us while the rest of the villagers surround our camp and attempt to kill us as well."

With a cry, she continued. "No! I'm not! I am still very much a friend of Helga's! I won't do anything to hurt her! The adults immediately had her confined and planned her execution for the next day. They had everything ready – the stake and all. It would have happened had Rowena not been there. She seemed very shocked – just like the rest of us and ran away. She came back, though - with her parents - and they managed to free Helga – at a dreadful cost. Rowena's father was taken – they burnt him instead of Helga."

"What happened next? Where are the women these days?" Godric asked in a soft voice. Salazar was not deceived. Inside, Godric was furious. While his own father died due to foolishness of his own – trying to invent a new potion – Godric's father was killed by Muggles – something his friend was not likely to forget.

Alis seemed to sense it as well, so she hurried to continue her story. "No one knows for sure... but – every time Helga went to visit Rowena – she went in the general direction of the Glen. That's up north – that way." She pointed. "People from the village went inside to search for them, but they never found anything – in fact, they all came back confused at what they were doing there in the first place."

"Muggle repelling charms." Salazar muttered. "Someone there is immensely strong – to repel so many."

"Have you anything else to tell us, girl?" Godric asked.

Alis shook her head, intimidated.

"Then run along."

She did so – not even attempting to hide her relief.

"Why didn't you memory charmed her?" Salazar asked as they watched her depart.

"It wasn't necessary. She's loyal enough to her friend. Besides, I won't be surprised if everybody in Culhwch is already aware of our... peculiarities. Put the light out, will you – you're lighting a beacon for anyone to see."

"_Nox_." Salazar whispered and followed Godric back to the fire.

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If they thought it was hard going through the snow in the Valley – it was nigh impossible in the Glen. They had to dismount their steeds and walk them. An only half-frozen stream also proved a test for them.

"Did you catch any whiff of magic?" Godric asked quietly as he cast another warming charm on his horse's wet legs.

"Nothing but those spells we use. The Ravenclaws are very careful, I believe." Salazar replied, drawing his cloak close around him.

"Considering everything – I am not surprised. It would have been easier had we had a Muggle with us – then we could have seen when the Muggle repelling charms start their work."

As they entered deeper and deeper into the Glen, the weather got steadily worse. By the time night had fallen, a storm started blowing around them.

"We must find shelter!" Godric roared above the howl of the storm.

"I can't see a thing! How will we find shelter? We can't see our own noses!"

"I see a light! To your left – can you see it?"

Far to his left, Salazar managed to glimpse that light. A dim, faraway light – but real nonetheless.

"Yes! Come on!"

They turned their horses in the direction of the blurry light. It took them well over half an hour to reach there, fighting the howling wind and battling through deep snow, pulling their horses by their bridles. They were not even aware of reaching the light until Salazar was bodily slammed into a wall of a sturdy stone house.

Blindly, desperately, they groped for a door.

"I found it!" Salazar shouted to Godric. He wrapped his hand around the frozen doorknob and pushed it open with all his might, catching them both off balance. Still holding to their horses' bridles, the wind threw the two men into a well-lit room, crashing face-first into a well-worn, clean floor.

"Ow!" Godric whined. "I think I broke something."

"Me, too." Salazar groaned next to him, feeling a burning sensation flowing from the general area of his ribcage.

"Who on earth are you?!"

**A/N:** Well? Did you like it? Did you hate it? Please review and tell me what you think!

To my reviewers:

**Window Girl:** Thank you!

**Bb:** Thank you very much! Oh, if I tell you there are any romances I will spoil things for you ;) Don't worry, though. Everything will unfold sooner or later.

**Cam:** Thanks... Glad you enjoyed it!

**Freespirit65:** Thank you, too (lol, I seem to say a lot of thank you's this time...). I do hope you'll try and read my other story! I'll make sure to check your own story soon as well – look out for my reviews!

**Beatleslover:** I did! And thank you!

**Sara:** No touchy! laughs this fic is mine, my own, my preciousssssss! Not to worry, this will be updated as frequently as I can – though considering school year has begun again, it may take longer than before.

I hope that this chapter clarified for you why Godric and Salazar did not Apparate. I've decided that travel by magic (aka Apparating) is only now being developed. As for magical aides, such as broomsticks and carpets and the like, I suppose the concealment measures which the magical community takes in Harry's days are _much_ more advanced.

**Eratosthenese:** Glad you like it! Here's the promised update and I can't wait to hear from you again!

**Cecilia Orechio:** Heh, thank you very much :D They will turn into companions pretty soon!

**I hope you had all enjoyed this chapter and will do my best to update soon!**


	3. And So We Meet Again

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Hello! I finished this chapter sooner than I thought! (But, then again, it could be the fact that I'm ignoring my homework that helped a bit...).

Anyway, just to let you know, I'll attempt updating both this story AND _The Story of Four Friends_ later on this week – we'll just have to wait and see how much homework gets piled up, now shall we?

Enjoy!

**Chapter 2 – And So We Meet Again**

_"As much as we would have liked to, we cannot lie to ourselves concerning the illustrious Founders of Hogwarts. _

_"The common belief, inspired by the hundreds of years that passed since they lived, is that their way to the founding of the school was smooth of obstacles and free of objections._

_"This presumption, however, is far from correct._

_"The reader will do well to remember that in those days, the power center of the Wizarding World was the Council of Warlocks – whatever the Council wished for was a rule in the community. None dared to object in fear of death. The Council was ruthless, no doubt, even though we have no true records of the punishments given._

_"In the Founders' time, the Chief Warlock of the Council was Lord Ambrosius, a man fashioning himself the heir of the great Merlin himself. He was the strongest of the Council leaders in all its years of existence. He was also the last of the true influential leaders._

_"But before we even begin with Lord Ambrosius' opposition to the will of the Founders, as will be discussed in further chapters, we must first take into count the conflicts between the Founders themselves before their final decision to oppose the greatest force in the Wizarding World in those days..."_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Rowena and Helga were enjoying a ferocious game of Wizard's Chess. Rosalind, Rowena's mother, was mending one of her daughter's dresses. Rowena was quite hopeless with thread and needle. She once asked her mother what she found so enjoyable in mending things the Muggle way when she could just as easily mend them with a wave of her wand. Rosalind smiled and told her that in a few years she would understand.

It's been six years since that question. Rowena still did not understand.

Rosalind used to be a beautiful woman and was a very strong witch, but the years that passed since the tragic death of her husband made her weary of life. Her once raven-black hair was streaked with grey. Her pale skin wrinkled and her eyes were constantly mournful. Rowena knew full well that the only reason her mother was still alive was because she felt obliged to take care of her daughter and protégé.

The cheerful fire was quite a contrast to the horrid weather outside. The Glen was a natural funnel, making it impossible to be out of the house during the winter storms. Snow hit the small house with force. They heard the thumps of it on the tightly closed shutters.

Nothing prepared the three women enjoying their evening to the door bursting open and the two cloaked men tumbling inside.

Rosalind jumped out of her seat, dropped her sewing, drew her wand and stood poised for attack.

Helga jumped so high in her seat that the chessboard fell on the ground, the various little figures shrieking in indignation.

Rowena sat, frozen in her chair. Has her magic failed? Are the Muggles coming to finish what they had started two years before? Will she have to fight for her life that day?

"Ow! I think I broke something." One of them whined.

No. Obviously not people preparing for the kill.

"Me, too." The other groaned.

Rowena suddenly found her voice; her anger at being so frightened covering her shock. "Who on earth are you?!" She demanded, surprising the men, Helga, Rosalind and herself.

The first one who spoke raised his head from the floor. He was familiar, though she could not remember where she had seen him before. The long, untidy mane of black hair covered a fair portion of his face, but she managed to catch a glimpse of bright blue eyes. _Where have I seen this man before?_ She tried to think. The man gave her a funny look and asked, as though echoing her own thoughts "Have I seen you before?" Then he groaned and touched his head gingerly. "I think I'm developing a concussion."

"You can't _develop_ a concussion, Godric." His companion chided him before groaning as well and getting up to his feet. He, too, seemed awfully familiar. "Mind showing us where we can stow our horses before we explain who we are and what we're doing here?"

Rosalind, still holding her wand in hand, led them outside.

"I _know_ these people, Helga." Rowena said quietly. "I know I've seen them before."

"Could be village people." Helga suggested with a shrug.

"They were most certainly _not_ village people. Give me a second – I know I remember them from somewhere."

A few minutes later, Rosalind and the men came back – her wand was still pointing at them. "Sit." She said roughly and then turned to mutter a locking charm on the front door.

The men obeyed her immediately and settled themselves near the fire.

"Well?" She asked.

"Well what?" The man called Godric muttered, rubbing his head.

"Well, who are you? You are obviously of the magic community – for you have managed to get to the house. Who are you and what are you doing here?" Rowena interrupted her mother hotly.

Godric looked up at her from his seat, his eyes narrowed. "I _knew_ I recognized you from somewhere. You're the girl who glared at me back in the inn all those years ago. I _never_ forget a face. Especially not one that makes evil faces at me."

Only then it struck Rowena. She suddenly realized where she had seen the two before. She glared at them. "_You_ scared my friend."

Godric glared back at her. "_You _keep a grudge! It's been five years ago, and besides, we never meant to scare her. Was it _our_ fault that her parents decided to wed her at _thirteen_? I don't think so!"

"You could have said no! _You_ didn't have to listen to Helga cry every night for a week! _You_ didn't have to convince her that you won't come back to take her away! _You_ didn't-"

"How could we have known that she is such a frightened little thing? We assumed the parents will realize we cannot and will not take her for wife! You are just bringing up an old grudge and mulling it over again! _You_-"

"Godric!" The second man snapped at the same time Helga said "Rowena!"

The bickering two quieted down, still glaring at each other.

"Good." A quiet voice said from near the fire. Rosalind Ravenclaw took up her sewing again and went back to work while she watched the four young people. "It's about time you will keep your mouths shut. Rowena, Helga, I want the two of you to go to your room and go to sleep. It is late."

"But Mother-" Rowena began.

"_Now_, Rowena." Rosalind said in the same quiet voice.

"Yes, Mother."

The two girls picked up their chessboard and pieces and went to the back of the house where they slept.

While Helga washed her face and hands in the small bowl on their nightstand, Rowena pushed a few more logs into the fireplace.

_Why are they here?_ She could not help but wonder. _They walked into our lives one evening, changing the way Helga saw the world entirely and then in the same evening left. We always thought they will never come back. Why are they here again? Why did they not reject the Hufflepuffs proposition to begin with and spare Helga and myself all that sorrow? Why-_

"I never guessed they were _our_ kind." Helga finally said, surprising Rowena out of her quiet reverie. The other girl finished washing herself and slipped into her nightdress. Now she sat on the edge of their bed and brushed her long golden locks.

"What?" She asked, startled.

"I said I never guessed they were our kind. You know, wizards? All these years I've been thinking of what would have happened had they accepted Mother and Father's suggestion. I sometimes just lay in bed and thought of what kind of future I would have if I was to marry such a person. I thought about it so many times that it became sort of my private fantasy. But never in all the variations of thought I had did I think they were wizards."

Rowena shrugged. "These days you can't possibly tell who is magic and who is not. You can't tell it to anyone in fear of being denounced and burnt at the stake. They could have been Muggles for all we knew and they could have been wizards." She was silent for a while before speaking again. "They must be very influential even in the Wizarding World – considering their attire and steeds and the way they carry themselves. What _I_ am wondering about is what business brings them here? What could possible bring two such lords into this hole?"

Helga looked at her helplessly. "I don't know, Raven. I'm just as surprised as you are. The Glen leads to nowhere. If they were heading somewhere else they would have stayed in Caerwyn Valley. The only place the Glen leads to is here. Maybe they're here for your mother?'

"Possible. But no one has tried to contact us for over ten years as far as I can remember. We never even got a letter of condolences when Father died." Rowena said with a sigh.

It was still hard for her to think of it. Her father was always a very central figure in her life and now that he was dead... Helga often cried after it happened – saying that it was all her fault, that if she was not stupid enough to get caught, it would not have happened. Rowena, however, being the completely honest person that she was, admitted to herself and then told it to the tearful girl that had she had a second chance to do it, knowing the consequences, she would have done the same thing.

_Dwelling on it will do me no good_ She told herself and blinked away the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She then continued. "No one had shown interest in Mother's research for years, as well – but that's the only reason I can think of for someone to walk willingly into the Glen."

She would have continued discussing it with her friend, but the soft, even breathing coming from her direction told her Helga fell asleep. With a gentle smile on her face, she washed herself, slipped into her nightgown and slid between the sheets of their bed, falling asleep immediately.

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_There are shouts all around her and it is immensely hot. She is holding her wand tightly in her clenched hand, tears falling on her cheeks. She is eighteen._

_She knows for sure that were they to fail, Helga – her only friend and constant companion for the past nine or so years – is going to die the next day. She could not let that happen._

_Fire. They surrounded the house containing Helga with fires. Was it not common knowledge that witches could not pass a ring of fire? If it was not for the situation they were in, she would laugh._

_She looks up to Father. He has that grim expression on his face again. The same expression he wears whenever she asks about her grandparents – the ones she never met._

_Her eyes move to Mother. She also has a horrible expression on her face – as if she knows saving Helga will cost the small family a lot._

_She has to be brave. If Mother and Father are going to face this, so is she. She will not let her friend perish in the flames._

_Her insides burn with an eternal fire, ready to consume anyone who stands in her path. But she knows better than that. This fire has to be harnessed – to be used in the appropriate time for maximum effect._

_"Get her out from the back!" Father shouts to her and to Mother. "I will distract them! We will meet back home! Get a move on, Rosalind! We have not got much time!"_

_And Mother complies, dragging her behind. They circle the house and reach the barred window of Helga's room._

_Mother mutters a spell to put out a small portion of the circle of fire and they walk through. Mother then says something she cannot hear above the sudden sound of fighting on the other side of the house._

_Father is there – fighting for them._

_The bars on the window are gone._

_"Come on, Helga!" She shouts and pulls her friend out._

_They run through the village and into the Glen. Mother covers for them from behind. She holds Helga's hand and pulls her onward. Mother keeps on hurrying them from behind._

_They finally reach home and they wait. Father will be back in no time._

_In the meanwhile Mother gives Helga something clean and warm to wear and she starts cooking dinner for the four of them._

_They wait for Father. And wait. And wait._

_She feels like she can't wait anymore. She takes hold of her wand and slip out of the house while Mother is cooking and Helga is sleeping in the chair next to the fireplace._

_She runs back to the village. It is already dark, but she knows her way around – she grew up here._

_She reaches the village and still no sign of Father._

_Then she hears the screams of pain._

_She sneaks through the deserted alleyways and from a street corner, away from sight, she has a good view of the village square._

_There is Father._

_And he burns._

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"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! No! No! Don't! Please! Father! _Father_!!!"

"Raven! Raven! Calm down! Please!"

Rowena was sitting in bed, the image of her father on his death pyre still on her mind. She did not have that dream for over a year now.

Perhaps _dream_ was not the right word for it. It was a nightmare, and she was reliving the events of the night they attempted to save Helga from the villagers yet again.

Next to her, Helga was also sitting in bed, her face pale in the light of her wand. "Rowena," She said softly. "What happened?"

Rowena sighed and put her face in her hands. "Nothing, Helga. Just the old nightmare again. I can't imagine what caused me to dream it again after so long. What time is it?"

"Something along the lines of two hours before dawn – maybe a bit less. Why?" She looked at her in concern.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep, Helga. Please don't mention this to Mother."

Helga nodded and went back to sleep. Rowena waited for well over half an hour before she was certain her friend was fast asleep again. She then got up, slid out of her nightgown, quickly buttoned up her dress, not bothering with all the skirts, pulled on her cloak and sneaked out of the room, careful not to make any sound.

The house was quiet. When she entered the main room, she saw the two shapes of the strangers lying on the floor, huddled inside their cloaks. She opened the front door with extra care and walked outside.

During the night the storm abated and now a thick coat of snow covered the ground, undisturbed. The sky was dark, but she could she a faint grayness just where the top of the Glen's eastern wall touched the sky. It was going to be a very gloomy day, fitting her mood.

She was not an introvert, depressed person by nature. Sure, she was not Helga, who managed to find the ray of light in every situation, but she never found much need in dwelling over unnecessary things and wasting time over sulking and mere trifles. No, Rowena Ravenclaw was a very practical young woman.

This time, however, there was no logical and practical answer to her inner turmoil. Why was it that on the day the two strangers from the past had arrived the old nightmare had come back? Was it something about them that triggered her dreams?

_It has something to do with that Godric fellow!_ She decided _I shouldn't have let him get to me! If I was not so upset with what he said I would not have been so vulnerable to the nightmare!_ But even saying this to herself sounded wrong.

She did not get along well with the Godric fellow, that much was true, but she bickered with people before. It never happened after arguments with Helga and Mother.

Was it something to do with the two wizards' quest? Maybe they were thinking so badly about their mission that it somehow intruded her sleep?

She shook her head in disgust. It sounded so wooly!

_A premonition, perhaps?_ Was her next idea. But she never believed in the Art of Divination, and premonitions also fell under that category. _Besides, what kind of premonition is having to relive something dreadful from your own past?_

Almost distractedly she wandered into the small stable attached to the house where Father's old horse used to live in till last winter when he finally succumbed to death.

_Oh, good old Roland_ Rowena thought, a soft smile spreading on her face. She used to love that old creature. Father often let her ride him when she was little (Naturally, he held Roland's bridle – but that never mattered to her). He lived much longer than the average horse. She supposed it had to do with a bit of mixed blood.

He was already an old horse in her first recollections of him. When Father was in the mood, he used to tell her stories of his past, when Ronald was a warhorse, carrying him to battle for the Wizarding World, and he was a young wizard, before meeting Mother and settling down in the Glen to start a family.

Both her parents dreamed of a large family. Two daughters and four sons, they wanted, but it all came crumbling down on them.

Rowena's birth was a hard one and Rosalind's body was badly damaged. She could not conceive again.

Being an only daughter never bothered Rowena. She was pampered to a fault, but still managed to grow out of being a spoilt brat. She supposed Helga had a lot to do with it.

Her parents let her run wild and never bothered to reprimand her when she stayed awake till long after midnight, glued to a thick tome in wavering wand-light.

Then Helga came and turned her world upside down.

The cheery little girl made her see that there were other things than climbing trees and reading books. She taught her the games she played with her Muggle friends and introduced her to the word _friendship_.

Up till eleven years before, she never had any friends. When she wanted to talk to someone, her parents had to fill in that job. When she wanted to play, she would climb trees and explore the valley. She was a very curious child and wanted to know as much as possible.

Upon the minute of her arrival, Helga announced that she does not mind climbing trees, but if they were going to do so, Rowena will have to as _she_ says the next day.

_That_ resulted in a day spent in playing tag and throwing a pig's bladder between them.

Rowena loved her friend dearly for giving her another view of life.

She still liked books, though.

She sat on last year's pile of hay – the bit Roland never got to use and looked at the two noble horses standing there.

Was this how Roland looked when he was young? Proud and tall? So haughty, yet so beautiful?

And was Father like the two noblemen sleeping in her house? She tried to imagine that kind man wearing their clothes but failed miserable and ended up laughing like a madwoman, rolling in the hay.

A sudden noise coming from the entrance to the stable made her stop. She looked up and her own hazel eyes met Godric's blue ones.

He was wearing a simple brown tunic owned by her father. Mother probably lent it to him, seeing as their clothes were soaking wet the previous night.

While her father looked like a simple peasant in that tunic, _this_ man still looked regal and dominant.

A slow blush grew up her cheeks. It was so embarrassing being caught like this by a nobleman.

To her horror, a smile crept to his lips. His eyes twinkled merrily and then, without warning - he began laughing.

**A/N:** Ok! You know the routine: Enjoyed this? Hated it? Anything you want to ask or make clearer? Just want to make my day better?

Review!

**Kakachipchip:** Thank you! I was a bit afraid to upload this to begin with because I wasn't sure if anyone would be interested. I'm glad I was proved wrong!

**Cecilia Orechio:** Thank you very much! The excerpts from _Hogwarts, A History_ are made up by me. I'm trying to make each one in context to the chapter.

**Freespirit65: **Heh, thanks ((grins widely)) Oh, yes, I do know how school is ((shudders)) in fact I'm escaping homework this very minute. Oh! And I'm going to check out your story soon!

**Eratosthenese:** Thanks. I will continue! I'm enjoying this too much to just stop now!

**Shadow-n-the-dark: **I'm sure there are other stories concerning the Founders out there – but I never read any of them. I'm honoured that you've decided on reading my own story! Thank you!

**Courtney8591:** I hurried up! But unfortunately I cannot guarantee that future updates will be as quick as this one...

**Stay tuned for next chapter! I'll try and finish it as soon as possible! Seeya!**


	4. Daughter of the Warrior

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Here's another chapter for your enjoyment!

I really feel like I should apologize to all of you who read _The Story of Four Friends_. I should have updated it before updating this, but I already had most of this chapter written down and nothing of Chapter 16 of _Four Friends_. So I promise to update _Four Friends_ by Saturday. Deal?

**Chapter 3 – Daughter of the Warrior**

_"It was always presumed that Godric Gryffindor was a rash man. He was best known for his impulsiveness and hot temper. Most records of the time describe him as the one first to attack and last to retreat – a habit that commended him in the eyes of many, yet condemned him in the eyes of others._

_"One of those others was Lord Ambrosius, Chief Warlock of the Council of Warlocks, a man considered by many to have doomed the destiny of the Council. Lord Ambrosius recognized Godric as a powerful enemy and made to weaken him as much as he possibly could even before Gryffindor realized the extent of his strengths._

_"His first step was to ensure that Gawain Gryffindor's - Godric's father – place at the Council was given to a member of a family holding a grudge against the House of Gryffindor upon the great wizard's death, thus blocking Godric from receiving the full authorities of his House._

_"What he did next was so heinous that it is a wonder that no one had protested. Lord Ambrosius made both Godric and his best friend, Salazar Slytherin Servants of the Council._

_"Being a Servant of the Council meant two things; the first, the Servant is forever bound to the will of the Council and has to obey to every whim of any member. The second, the Servant can never become a member of the Council – even when a place had opened._

_"Lord Ambrosius had sentenced the two young men to a life of servitude without repay. He believed that this way he managed to get himself rid of two nuisances at once._

_"He was wrong, and because of his mistake, the Council was soon to lose all its powers..."_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

The girl no longer resembled a haystack, for certain. Godric barely recognized her at first, which he felt weird, because he had a good memory for faces and her face was on his mind ever since they visited Culhwch. Only later on, when her mother sent her to bed did he realize that he did not recognize her because she had _changed_.

When last he saw her, five years prior, she had a gangly, scratched and neglected sort of look to her. He distinctly remembered a smudge of mud on her face.

Now however, she had her auburn hair severely pulled back, its curls dropping to her shoulders in a bright cascade. Her dress was not ripped as before and she had all skirts and knots in place.

She also held herself differently. Back then she was haughty and even in company of the other girls seemed isolated. When he laid his eyes on her that night, however, the haughtiness turned into simple pride and openness. She knew what she was and no longer felt defensive of it.

Blue certainly complimented her, and the dark shade of her dress looked fantastic in contrast to her coppery locks.

She had a mouth on her.

Never in his life had a woman opened her mouth on him. They were always demure and submissive, letting him have his way. Never had he met a woman who dared retorting to whatever he had to say. It was refreshing – if somewhat irking.

He noticed Salazar sending him pointed glances and realized her was staring and that the girl's mother was in plain sight.

"I do apologize for my daughter, noble lords." The older woman said suddenly. "I tried weaning her from this directness of hers, but nothing seems to work. Now, I would require your names and your mission. It has been a long time since any of the magic community had tried contacting me."

"It is us, who must apologize, Madam!" Godric said with a quick bow. "We are the ones who burst into your house. I am Godric Gryffindor of Wild Moor – and this is my friend and brother, Salazar Slytherin of the Fen. We have come here by the will of the Council of Warlocks to search for one, Rosalind Ravenclaw. Would it be imprudent of me to assume that you are, indeed, Madam Ravenclaw?"

She watched him unblinkingly through her almost golden eyes. Finally she said "Yes, I am Rosalind Ravenclaw, Lord Gryffindor. Now, would you be as kind as to tell me what the Council wants from me?"

Straight to the point. Godric liked that. He hated it when people walked round and round matters for hours, skirting the pressing issues without actually getting there.

"Truth be told, Madam," Salazar said "Is that we are not entirely sure what the Council wants. But it would be a safe assumption to say that it is not the _Council_ that wants your presence as much as it is the Chief Warlock."

"The Chief Warlock?" She asked softly "Is it still old Lord Fenwick?"

"I am afraid not, Madam." Godric said gravely "Lord Fenwick died in mysterious circumstances four years ago. His second in command and might I add – murderer – has taken his place."

"Godric!" Salazar said in outrage "What if someone would have heard you?! Ambrosius could get you executed for this!"

"Who could have heard me here? There are no wizards or witches in miles and that is the truth! We all know very well that Ambrosius murdered Fenwick because the old man just won't _die_."

"It's a guess! It was never proven!"

"That doesn't mean he didn't!"

"Ambrosius?" Madam Ravenclaw was silent for so long that they almost forgot she was there. "You said Ambrosius is Chief Warlock? Ambrosius of York?"

"You know him?" Salazar asked.

"_Know_ him? As much as someone _could_ get to know that byproduct of filth!" Madam Ravenclaw, who, up to that moment, was sitting calmly in her chair, flared all of a sudden. "I used to consider him one of my greatest friends!"

"Then what happened?" Godric asked in interest. Salazar disliked Ambrosius, that much was true, but he never seemed to hate him with the same fervour as Godric. He was delighted to find someone whose views on the Chief Warlock were as negative as his.

"What happened? Ryan happened." She got up and went to the fireplace. With gentle hands she removed a polished sword from above the mantelpiece. Then she went to the corner of the room and opened an old cabinet with a rusty creak. Godric could not see what it was she pulled out until she returned and laid both objects and the sword on the table in front of them.

The sword was one bearing the signs of extensive use. It had been sharpened constantly, but bore the dents of long years in battle. The leather sleeve covering the sword's hilt was well-worn. So were the scabbard and the belt she pulled from the cabinet.

The second thing she pulled from the cabinet was a shield carrying a crest of a knight – an eagle. Beneath the eagle, were the words _Raven Lord_.

Godric stared at the shield and sword in awe. Without even looking he could tell that Salazar was doing the self-same thing. It was not every day that you were facing the artefacts of a legend.

"You... you were married to..." He managed to let out.

"Ryan Ravenclaw. Yes, I was."

"_Ryan Raven Lord?!_"

"Yes."

"Dear _Merlin_!"

She smiled sadly. "I am sure he would have loved to meet you to – had he lived."

"That was not an end fit for the most celebrated knight of the Wizarding World!" he spluttered. "Why didn't the Council do anything to help?!"

Madam Ravenclaw sighed. Only now did Godric realize that this was no young woman in front of him. Not old, certainly, but someone who had lost so much and aged considerably in the course of years. "The Council – especially under Ambrosius' rule – no longer cares for us. Not since Ryan left it all those years ago."

Ryan Raven Lord was a legend in the ranks of young wizards of the Wizarding World. His adventures were told and retold so many times that he seemed a giant even while alive. He was the leader of the Knights of the Phoenix – an order long since disbanded - warriors who used both magic and Muggle weapons in battles. It was their mission to protect the magic community of enemies. Godric was one of those who walked their path and lived according to their lore.

The most famous story told of Raven Lord was his departure. It was made even more so because of the mysterious reasons which caused him to leave.

The story told was that one day Raven Lord was summoned to face the Chief Warlock and his second-in-command. When they were done, he was furious. He stormed out of Stonehenge and faced his knights. His speech became legendary and almost every one in the country soon knew it by heart, with the slight adjustments of mouth-to-ear telling. Gawain Gryffindor, however, who was one of Raven Lord's most trusted knights and was there, stored his memories in a pensieve and Godric would listen to it again and again since childhood, and knew it word by word, just as the knights had heard it.

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_"My brothers-in-arms! My friends! I have grave news for you!" Ryan Raven Lord cried, facing all his knights, his long hair flowing wild in the violent wind, his cheeks tear-stricken and his voice cracking._

_"This is the very last you will see of me. I have talked and conferred with the Chief Warlock and his minions for the past few hours. They want to make the Knights of the Phoenix a Guard of Honour to our _illustrious_ Council members. They wish us to become nothing but bodyguards._

_"They claim that there is no need to waste the money of the People and continue funding our operations. They claim that the money will be better used in us standing like dumb Muggles in colourful costumes and parade for the enjoyment of all those petty lords._

_"They say that the community can protect itself and that their amusement is much more important than the safety of anyone else._

_"I have argued with them and refused to receive the position of General if the meaning of this is the degradation of everything we ever stood for._

_"For that they had given me an ultimatum: I am to do as they say, or face eternal exile on the pain of death."_

_Raven Lord paused for breath. There was deathly silence in the air. All the knights knew beyond doubt what their leader's decision was._

_He took a deep breath, readying himself and said "I have chosen exile. I was given a day and a night to pack everything I have and leave the Wizarding World. Once I bid you farewell, I will take my Lady Rosalind and remove myself from the reach of the Council._

_"In a matter of minutes, Lord Ambrosius will come and speak to you. He will command you to take your new position and leave all your duties. The only thing I can ask of you is that you refuse. This goes against everything we ever believed in. Stand united against him._

_"I warn you – this Ambrosius will be the end of the Wizarding World if he is not stopped. Do not listen to him! He poisoned Lord Fenwick's mind – but you are stronger. Stand firm and spit in the face of the false contender! You are the Knights of the Phoenix! You are invincible! Go to your families and protect them! Leave this abomination of a ruler!_

_"You are all my brothers, and it was an honour beyond measure to lead you and serve alongside you! Farewell!"_

_And to the sound of a hundred knights hailing him, Ryan Raven Lord mounted his proud steed and thundered into the sunset, never to be seen again._

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Godric almost shivered as he looked at the weapons, craving to touch, but not daring.

Madam Ravenclaw sighed. "Everyone knows that Ryan refused a change of job and that caused the great rift between him and the Council and ended up in his exile – but that's only half-true.

"Ambrosius loved me – in his own twisted way. He was cruel and possessive, but in whatever concerned me, he was the gentlest of men.

"But then Ryan and I fell in love. Merlin, how that cankered his soul! He fashioned himself the greatest of wizards of his time and the most irresistible of men. You have seen him, I'm sure. You can see how impressive and formidable he is, can you not? Even in his old age? And there you have my Ryan – all knees and elbows and scrawniness. And yet he was the one I chose." She wiped a tear that fell on her cheek and Godric's heart clenched inside him. He wanted to say something, but she went on." So Ambrosius tried everything in his power to humiliate and discredit Ryan. But all was in vain," Here she smiled a small, victorious smile "Even his final plan, where he knew Ryan would rather take exile than watch the desecration of everything he held dear, came crashing down on him in the end, making Ryan come out the hero."

"And Raven Lord also got the girl, didn't he?" Godric said with a smile.

"Oh, yes." She laughed. "That, too. Ryan got the girl and Ambrosius remained this bitter old man. I wish Rowena could have known her father for what he really was." There was a note of regret in her voice.

"Then why don't you tell her, Madam?" Salazar asked gently. "She can know now."

She shook her head. "Ryan did not want her to grow up in that shadow. _She_ doesn't know why we live so much apart of anyone magical. _She_ doesn't know that her father was an exile. Ryan made sure of that. He also made me promise to never tell her who he was before she was born. He did not want any reminders of that time. It hurt him till the day he died. We hid his armour and shield – only leaving the sword out. She knows her father was a warrior – that she _does_ know, but we made sure to never say a word on her father's legacy. That was how he wanted it."

They sat in silence for a while. Then she said "So, what does Ambrosius wants from me?"

"All we know, Madam," Salazar said "Is that it has something to do with your Charming abilities and your research on long-distance travel by magic."

"Ah." She said with disapproval. Godric hoped it was not directed at him. She seemed to read his mind. She let out a short, bitter laugh and said "Oh, there is nothing wrong with what _you_ did, Lord Gryffindor – are you Gawain's son? I expected that much – you look just like him. As I was saying, it's not what you did. Or you – for that matter, son of Searlas Slytherin. Yes, I do recognize the name. I grew up knowing both your fathers. Ryan was devastated when he heard of their deaths.

"No, I should have expected this. I have been researching this even before I married Ryan, and Ambrosius knew it. I assume he knows me well enough to guess that I would not abandon my field of interest – even for my dear Ryan."

She paused, and then said "I will not come."

Godric and Salazar stared at her, as if not comprehending her words.

"You... will not...come?" Godric finally uttered.

She shook her head. "Not for all the Galleons in the world."

"But..." Salazar started "It's the Council's will-"

"I don't care if it's the Council's will!" Madam Ravenclaw burst. Suddenly Godric was afraid. This was a woman who suffered a lot. This was a woman who knew very well whom she was facing. And she did not care one bit. "What is the Council to me? Had the Council not exiled my husband many of the magic community would still be amongst us! If it was not for Ambrosius the Knights of the Phoenix would never have disbanded their Order! If it was not for his stiff-necked decision they would have been able to continue and save lives! If it was not for him Ryan would not have died! If it was not for the Council your own father would have lived!"

Her fiery eyes locked on Godric's eyes and he knew the truth of her words. His father was murdered by Muggles. If the Knights of the Phoenix were still doing their job, Gawain Gryffindor would still be alive.

"Enough of this for tonight." She said with finality. "_Accio clothes!_" She summoned. Dry, clean tunics and trousers flew to her. She handed them to the two men unceremoniously. "They belonged to my husband. Wear them till your own clothes will be fit to be worn again. You may sleep in front of the fire. Goodnight." And she stormed out of the room, taking her husband's shield with her.

Godric looked at Salazar helplessly and said "This is going to be _much_ tougher than we thought."

Salazar shrugged and changed into the dry clothes, then curled in his cloak in front of the fire and fell promptly asleep.

Godric followed his lead almost immediately, falling into a sleep punctured by dreams of his family and how much he missed them all.

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At first Godric was not sure what woke him up. It was only when he heard the front door close that he realized that someone had left the house. It took him a while to get his bearings right. He was not at all sure at first where he was or how he got there.

Once everything came back to him he groaned. That was really not the correct way of handling things. He would have to make amends once Madam Ravenclaw was up.

He pulled himself from the floor, his neck creaking after staying in an unnatural pose all night long. He was used to it – and besides, sleeping on a floor in front of a fireplace was much better than on earth and stone in front of a meager campfire.

The air in the room grew stuffy. He really needed fresh air, but he was also very hungry, eating nothing since the night before, when they left Culhwch. He contemplated what to do.

_What am I thinking?! _ He chided himself. _This is not my home. I have no right to go and rummage in Madam Ravenclaw's pantry. What I should do is go for a walk, and hopefully, by the time I'm back, the woman will be awake and offer us some breakfast._

With that settled, he opened the front door cautiously, making as little sound as possible and sneaked outside.

He stood just outside the house and marveled at the great difference between the night before, when he and Salazar cursed every inch of the way and that morning when everything was an unblemished white.

As he watched the snow, he suddenly realized that the snow was not as unblemished as he first thought it was. It was dotted by light prints of small feet going hither and thither.

Curious, he followed the trail of feet as it turned about the area surrounding the house, finally walking towards the small outcrop attached to the house which he recognized as the stable where he put Griffith, his stallion, the previous night.

The door to the stable was slightly opened and he had no trouble to slide inside without disturbing the occupants: two horses and a girl.

The girl, Rowena Ravenclaw, was rolling in the hay, laughing wildly as though she had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

Her hair was out of his sever knot and was full of bits and pieces of hay and earth. She was only wearing her gown and nothing more, making her slimmer than he thought and – he felt with a start – much more attractive.

_As if she needed me to think her even more attractive. _ He thought bitterly. _ This girl could enchant kings._ He made a noise of disgust.

It was then that Rowena noticed his presence. She stopped laughing and looked up to him. Their eyes met and he felt his heart climb to his throat. He stared at her for a long time until she started blushing, and he understood in what an embarrassing position he found her. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch, and then without warning, he began laughing.

He laughed and laughed till he had no more air, at which point he fell to the floor and leaned against the stable's wall. "Dear, Merlin, girl! You look so funny!" He chocked.

And instantly knew that this was a mistake.

Rowena got up to her feet, her pink blush of embarrassment turned into the red tinge of anger. She was furious.

"I am _not_ funny, you pompous windbag! If you _must_ know – I've been laughing at the image of you riding that poor horse of yours and him bucking from under you and dropping you to the mud!"

At that moment, a picture appeared in Godric's mind. A picture he did not see himself, but witnessed in his father's pensieve.

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_"Have you any idea what you could have done, Gryffindor?" Raven Lord stared hard into Gawain's eyes. _

_Gawain felt a compulsion to say something to placate his commander, but could think of nothing._

_Raven Lord continued staring at him; his cheeks flushed red in anger, his long hair full of dirt from the scuffle he just had had to break. Gawain had never seen him that angry before. Oh, sure, he could cuff a young knight for being foolish or say something harsh when someone was out of place, but angry? Never. Not Ryan Raven Lord._

_He had been foolish and rash, attacking Lord Llyr when the man insulted Gawain's choice of a bride – Ceridwen – but he could not let it lay! Raven Lord must realize that._

_He tried to explain, but Raven Lord turned his head in disgust. "I need none of this, Gawain. You are a better man than he is – never forget that. Never descend to his level. He is a creature of Ambrosius and therefore an enemy of what we stand for. One day, I may not be here, and I need you to promise that you will go on in my footsteps. Just remember that – and make sure that _this_ never happens again."_

_And he strode off, living Gawain to ponder the mystery that was his commander._

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Rowena's glare intensified each and every moment until, with an indignant huff, she strode off angrily.

Godric smiled to himself. She was truly the daughter of her father. And who is better to change the destinies of the Wizarding World other than the Warrior's daughter?

**A/N:** Liked it? It was fun writing... Please go now and review and tell me what _you_ think!

**To my reviewers:**

**Freespirit65:** Oh, yeah ((shudders)) homework is the worst thing ever ((is ignoring the glaring pile of homework beside her)) Nope! :D Not telling! You'll have to wait and see ;)

**Eratosthenese:** Why, thank you :)

**Cecilia Orechio:** Well, I suppose you're right, but then – what would be written in _Hogwarts, A History_, if not the tale of Hogwarts from the very beginning? It has to have _something_ on the Founders and it's a pretty heavy, long book, isn't it? The thing about Apparation is that Rosalind has been developing it for the less able wizards and witches – she's one of the few who can actually do it. Rowena's father couldn't do it, unfortunately.

You know? I didn't think of it... There's something in what you say. They _are_ a bit like Lily and James! ((laughs at her own lack of attention)).

**Fishie:** Hello, there! Long time no see! Glad you like it – get to read the next two chapters already!!! How many times do I have to tell you? And tell Calla to review while you're at it – she didn't do it as yet...And she promised! Want to beta it for me?

**Linwe Amandil: **Thank you very much! :D

**Bb: **Thanks! Ah, Godric and Rowena – the greatest mystery which...erm... mystifies all! ((says it very quickly))

**Courtney8591: **Thank you :) I'm glad people like the bits with Rowena's thoughts and memories. I hope Godric's flashbacks are just as enjoyable.

Oh, no trouble whatsoever with the impatience! I know how it is – trust me! And it makes me happy to see that people are anxious for me to update – it's very rewarding knowing that someone likes your work :)

**shadownthedark: **Thanks! That'll take a while... but not too long – that I can promise :D

**If I have enough time, I'll upload up to two new chapter till next Saturday – I have a school break of four days, starting from Wednesday!**

**Seeya all!**


	5. The Long Winter

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Well, I didn't get to write as much as I hoped I would, and I update this later than I expected, but I do hope this amounts to your expectations...

**Chapter 4 – The Long Winter**

_"Rowena Ravenclaw is credited to many of the protections surrounding the Castle of Hogwarts. One of her chief contributes, is what came to be known as the Anti-Apparration Field around the castle._

_"What makes this Field so rare and unique? First of all, it is one of the largest and strongest Fields ever to be erected. _

_"Secondly, it is the oldest Field that ever existed in the Wizarding World and has held for over a thousand years._

_"The Field was cast by Rowena herself, though she was aided by the other three Founders. She was the only one of the four who knew exactly how that Field was operating._

_"Where had Rowena Ravenclaw come across the magic of the Anti-Apparation Field? The answer to that is yet further into the past. Rowena's own mother, Rosalind Ravenclaw, was one of the first to master Apparation and taught her daughter accordingly. Back at the time, Apparation was one of the most difficult magic accomplishments to manage and only a rare few could do it. Together with Rowena, Rosalind developed an easier method of Apparating, which is used to this day by many of the Wizarding World._

_"Armed with her first-hand knowledge of the process of Apparation, Rowena Ravenclaw studied every single aspect of it and after a long, and tedious time of research, she managed to perfect a spell that will erect a permanent Field to stop people from Apparating inside its borders._

_"This was one of the very first accomplishments which showed the Council of Warlocks exactly whom they were facing..."_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Rosalind Ravenclaw woke up the morning after the arrival of the two men feeling old and bitter.

_You are barely halfway through your fifth decade_ She chided herself, pushing the covers off her. _Just think what Ryan would have said were you to tell him that._

This made her feel instantly better. She never told Rowena that, but she no longer felt empty when thinking of her lost husband. She finally managed to find calm in the middle of her pain.

She loved Ryan very much. They were married for nineteen years and knew each other for far longer than that before he died and his death shattered her world to pieces. Another thing she will never tell her daughter was just how much she helped her during the first few months after they had managed to get hold of his burnt remains and gave him a proper burial.

She could still remember his face clearly. As she told Godric and Salazar the night before, he was tall and gangly, and when you tried putting him in finery he seemed so ungainly. His long hair was auburn – just like Rowena's – but in recent years the stress of his less-than-self-imposed exile started showing and it had silver streaks shooting through it.

Oh, how she loved pushing her hand through those long locks!

And his eyes... those endearing pale-blue eyes, showing what he felt immediately. He could always control his face – but his eyes betrayed him every time.

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She wished she had taken that portrait that hung on the wall of his room when they had to flee from the wrath of the Council. The portrait in which the artist had drawn Ryan in his full battle-gear. Only when he was in his armour and holding his weapons did Ryan look at home.

But he said the portrait would weigh them down – and anyway, what would she do with it? It was just another portrait.

And now, all these years ahead of that day, she hated herself for listening to him. She had nothing to remember him by apart of the sword and the shield. The armour he had hidden somewhere, refusing to tell her where.

He wanted to hide it all from Rowena. He wanted her to grow up happy and unaware of his past life.

But Ryan could not stop Rosalind from telling Rowena of _her_ previous life. It was true that she loved Ryan, but not even for love would she give up her main interest in life. Charms. Rosalind Ravenclaw was one of the best Charmers still alive. She could do practically everything with a wand. From knitting socks to cooking banquets – there was nothing she could not do.

She was a very strong witch, but the Council of Warlocks refused to acknowledged that and aid her various researches. It was common knowledge that witches could not be stronger than wizards, after all.

Nothing they said, however, could contradict the fact that she was one of the very few who could transport themselves from one place to another in mere seconds. It was a dangerous sort of spell. It could go wrong in so many places.

It was Rosalind's mission in life to turn this method of travel into something most – if not all – of the magic community could do. And it was proving to be harder than she ever thought.

She fondly remembered a day, back when Rowena was a small child, when Ryan was out in the garden, trying to convince his vegetable patch that actually producing vegetables is a good idea, and Rowena was sitting with a tome almost as big as her propped against a vase, reading, she had decided it was time to get back to work. She knew that before Rowena was born she was very close to cracking the way, but had abandoned her works in favour of taking care of her daughter.

She struggled with it day by day. Ryan knew nothing of it, since he was always outside, trying to make their lives a bit better, growing his garden, fixing the house or feeding Roland, his old warhorse.

After a year of struggling, she felt like giving up, guessing that she had lost the touch during her long break.

It was then that Rowena walked into the room, took a glance at her sketches and asked "Mother, isn't it possible that if you change the pronunciation of _this_ word the magic will flow better and there will be less resistance of physical substance?"

Rowena was seven back then. That day she began her magical education.

And so, for the past thirteen years, Rowena has been assisting her in her research. They almost managed it. The year before they had actually succeeded in making Helga travel to a location almost quarter of a mile off in a blink of an eye. Up until then Helga had never managed the spell. It was very encouraging, but still it needed perfecting.

Shaking herself from her reminiscing, Rosalind pulled on her clothes. It was very cold. The winter was going to be longer than usual. She could feel it in her bones. Shivering, she picked up her winter cloak and wrapped it snugly around her thin body. She twisted her hair into a tight knot, covered it with a simple net made of copper and tucked a few stray locks of hair back in.

Feeling like the dignified matron she was supposed to be, Rosalind Ravenclaw walked out of her bedroom and marched purposefully into the house's main room.

Upon entering the room, she noticed a few things.

Someone had stirred the fire back to life, using the limited supply of wood they kept inside (_The girls would have to go and fetch some more when they get up_ She thought). The fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace, throwing every now and then a spark on the already singed, threadbare hearthrug.

The strangers' clothes were spread on two chairs in front of the fire, getting dry. She avoided drying clothes by magic if she could – it always made them stiff and unpleasant to the touch for a long while after.

The men were no longer asleep. And for that matter, only one of them was to be seen. Salazar Slytherin was sitting calmly at the scrubbed dinning table and read a book from Rosalind's small library. She had acquired many of these books with great cost. She even filched a few from her own father's library.

Salazar did not seem to notice her presence. He was engrossed in a thick book bound with blue velvet. She could recognize it without even looking at the name. _The Legacy of the Phoenix_. It was a book that many would have given their right arms so they could take a mere glimpse at. There were only three copies ever made – two of them were in Rosalind's possession - Though she did not know where one was.

It was a book that told the history of the Order of the Knight of the Phoenix. All four hundred thirty six years of it. From the day Merlin had initiated the first Knight before his disappearance into the pages of history and to the day when Ryan Raven Lord had called for the disbanding of the Order.

It was written by Ryan himself, who meticulously made two more copies of his book after he finished writing it in exile. One copy he sent to Lord Ambrosius, who, thinking he had the only copy, hid it and said that whoever will try reading it will be sentenced to death.

The second copy he kept in the library – the one Salazar was now reading – but had Rosalind charm it so that Rowena would never be able to read it.

The last copy, the original one, he hid together with his armour, and Rosalind had the feeling that he was hoping that one day Rowena would find them both and realize what kind of man her father really was.

She cleared her throat lightly, making Salazar jump. She smiled. "Sorry for startling you, my lord. Good morning. Would you like a spot of breakfast?"

He nodded, getting up and putting the book back in place.

"It frustrates Rowena to no end that she can't read that book." She answered his unasked question, turning to her pantry and taking out various commodities she needed for making breakfast.

"Yes, I was wondering just that." He said "Seeing as you told us last night Raven Lord did not want her to know."

"I charmed the book to his request. Rowena – nor Helga, for that matter – can't read this book."

"I thought the only copy existing is in Ambrosius' clutches. May I help you with something?"

She snorted while mixing flour, water and spices in a big wooden bowl. "Ryan had many faults, but stupidity was not one of them, Lord Slytherin. He sent Ambrosius the book from our exile just to tweak his nose – just so he would know that Ryan was not completely out of the picture – here, you can cut the meat. Make the slices nice and thin, otherwise Helga will not eat it – " She handed him a lump of salted venison and a sharp knife "- In any case, Ryan made three copies – I don't know what happened to one, but I'm in possession of this one. You may read it – but if you dare telling Rowena anything about that – I'll hex your ears off."

She knew that even with her kitchen apron and a bowl of dough she could look threatening. She had been perfecting it for years to prevent Rowena from stealing cookies before dinner was served.

Salazar seemed to catch that as well and did not continue that specific discussion, cutting the salted meat into the thinnest slices he could.

"Where is your friend?" She asked suddenly. "I haven't seen him when I came here."

"Godric?" He said "He usually likes to get up early and look in on his horse. He's very attached to Griffith. His father gave him that palomino when he was five – just before Gawain was murdered. I think that animal is more than half magical – living that long and still looking as young as he does. He's twenty years old!"

Rosalind felt a wave of pity washing over her. "I knew Gawain very well." She said softly. "And your father as well - though for different reasons.

"Gawain was Ryan's best friend – even though Gawain was seven years older than him. They were almost inseparable back in the days when Gawain was Ryan's Second-in-Command. He used to bring Ceridwen and Godric over for dinner many a time when they were not off on missions for the Order.

"And your parents... I knew Searlas mainly because your mother, Seraphine, and I were such good friends – she being Lord Fenwick's daughter and I being the only FitzPatrick girl – we were bound to become friends. When she died, however, Searlas needed someone to cheer him up, so sometimes he came together with Gawain and brought you and Dahlia along – though you were probably too young to remember. He stopped bringing you when Ceridwen started tutoring Godric, Dahlia and you in magic." She sighed. "Ryan formed a really close friendship with the two of them. I thought he would die as well when news of their deaths reached us."

In the silence that sank after she spoke, a sound of feet rushing from the back of the house was heard and into the room burst a wide-awake Helga.

"Good morning!" She said brightly, arranging her half-open dressing gown into a more respectable position with a slight blush when she saw Salazar. Rosalind assumed that her protégé simply forgot they had guests.

"Good morning, Helga." She said with a smile. "Is Rowena awake as yet?"

Helga frowned. "I thought she was already up and about. Didn't you send her to collect a bit of wood?"

Rosalind was about to say something when the door to the house slammed open and inside stormed an angry Rowena.

"For Merlin sake, girl!" Rosalind said, appalled at her daughter's scanty attire "Go and dress yourself appropriately! We have men in the house!"

Rowena did not even spare her another glance before disappearing in the direction of her bedroom.

"I'm terribly sorry for my daughter's behaviour, Lord Slytherin. I cannot imagine what got into her!"

"I'm afraid I am somewhat to blame, Madam." A new voice said from the doorway.

Godric entered with his arms full of firewood. He put his load not far from the fireplace and went to shut the door close.

Rosalind waited for an explanation, her eyes frosty. _If he had done something to my Rowena..._

Godric settled himself in a chair next to the table and said "I stumbled upon her when I went to have a look on my horse – she was sitting on a heap of hay, laughing. She just looked so funny that I started laughing as well. I think she took offense."

Rosalind released a breath she was not aware of holding. _And here I was, expecting the worse_ She scolded herself for thinking so low of her guest.

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Breakfast was a rather simple affair – a fresh loaf of bread, sliced salted venison with mustard sauce (Helga's favourite dish. She could eat it morning, afternoon and evening – just as long as the meat was sliced thin), homemade raspberry jam and a few winter vegetables – miserably small, but edible.

When they were all done (Rosalind managed making Rowena be civilized to Godric and vice versa by simply telling them that the first to say something snide to the other will spend the night in the stable), Rosalind decided it was time to tell the men something that they were unaware of because of being strangers to the Glen.

"Are you aware of the fact that you will be spending the entire winter here?" She asked.

"What?" Godric asked, surprised.

"You have been outside, have you not?"

"Yes. Only snow – we can-"

"No." She cut him short. "You cannot. The snow is about ten feet deep. The only reason the house is not bogged in is the magic defences which Rowena erected here a few years back to replace the old ones Ryan and I put. Everywhere else is covered by feet of snow."

"Then there's no problem-"

"You did not let me finish. When you get closer to the mouth of the Glen, however, the snow becomes treacherous and you are more likely to sink seven feet down and die. Even magic will not help you once you are down. You are stuck here – whether you like it or not."

Salazar and Godric exchanged worried glances. The women were silent and therefore the sudden hissing noise was clearly heard.

"What was that?!" Helga demanded in fright.

"You should tell them." Godric said to Salazar.

"But-" Salazar protested.

"They'll find out sooner or later. They had better learn it from you."

Salazar sighed. Then, to Rosalind surprise, he hissed something to the general direction of his wrist. When the hissing was over, a small, scaled head appeared tentatively from inside the cuff of his borrowed tunic. A tiny forked tongue darted out of the creature's mouth, tasting the air.

"Snake!" Helga shrieked.

"Her _name_ is Moreen." Salazar said in an insulted tone.

"You are a Parselmouth." Rowena said softly.

He nodded in appreciation. "Moreen is my friend and constant companion. She just said that Madam Ravenclaw is right and that Godric and I will have to stay here until the winter snows give in."

"Very well," Rosalind said briskly. "Then we need to reassign the house chores."

She felt like smirking when she saw the panicky look shared by the two men.

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The winter was long just as Rosalind expected it to be. It seemed to go faster because they all had their own chores to do.

They would start the morning with Rosalind making breakfast. She usually got up long before them all, and by the time they all picked themselves out of their beds (or improvised mattresses in Godric's and Salazar's case) she already had food on the table.

Then Godric and Salazar were shooed out of the house – a hard fit to accomplish as it was freezing cold outside and they were reluctant to leave the warm interior – and were sent to get a fresh pile of firewood for the day. Rowena and Helga would go to the stable. Helga to milk the old goat (Salazar and Godric made faces when first they tasted cheese made of goat-milk, but got used to it after a few weeks' time) who shared the stable with the two horses, Griffith and Cian, and Rowena to take care of the horses and replenish their food stocks.

Rosalind wondered where her daughter got the oats and hay, since they didn't keep much – just enough for the goat. She suspected Rowena traveled to Culhwch every now and then – by what ways, she had no idea – and filched enough food to last the horses and the goat for a week.

She never asked since the time when Rowena told her rather grimly "Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies."

After they had all done their morning chores, Rosalind settled them down to dry the cleaned dishes and put them all to place. It was a rare event if Godric and Rowena did not fight during the half hour they spent in the kitchen every day.

It usually started because of Godric.

For example, there was a time when he dropped a very valuable crystal fruit bowl Rosalind received from one of her brothers as a wedding gift. Rowena, who needed only the mildest excuse to explode, started berating him for being such a clumsy oaf and destroying such an important thing of her mother's and that it was so beyond repair.

Rosalind merely pointed her wand at the bits of crystal and muttered "_Reparo!_", putting it all back together.

Then there was the time when he had accidentally-on-purpose stepped on her foot and bruised her pale skin. She let out such a blood-curdling scream that Rosalind was sure the Muggles ten miles away could hear her.

Godric sulked around the house all day after that, sporting a pair of hairy ears.

After their morning chores, either Godric or Salazar would take hold of _The Legacy of the Phoenix_ and read it, while the other one practiced magic or sword movements in the corner of the main room. Whenever Godric was in possession of the book, Rowena would send dirty glances in his direction and mutter profanities under her breath. She thought her mother could not hear her, but Rosalind was just tired of threatening her with washing her mouth with soap.

When the men read and practiced, Rowena and Rosalind would continue their Travel by Magic research, asking for Helga's aid every now and then when they wanted to check whether she could do this spell or that gesture.

Helga herself would study from the magic tomes. She never told Rosalind what exactly she was doing, but Rowena seemed to know, so that was good enough for the older woman.

They ate a late midday meal; afterwards they would lounge for a while, read or play chess. The men would disappear every now and then and do whatever it was they did – she never bothered to pry.

It was during the evening that the worst Godric versus Rowena fights took place, when they actually had to spend time with each other that did not consist of each of them doing their separate things.

"-I swear to you, Gryffindor! If you don't stop – I'll hex your face from here to Rome! I'll wrap your intestines around a stake and leave you alive for as long as I can!"

That was the latest Rowena Threat. It was given in retaliation to a really nasty joke Godric played on her. He turned her Queen into a slug, and when she attempted prodding her when the small chess piece refused to move, the sluggish Queen stuck to her hand and would not let go.

"It was just a harmless joke! Why are you taking things so bloody heavily?! You are the worst prude I had ever met!"

Ignoring the shouting match as best he could, Salazar said "No offense to your hospitality, Madam Ravenclaw, but I'm hoping that the snow will melt soon."

"Quite understandable, my lord. But you'll be happy to know that I think that by next Thursday you will be able to leave the Glen."

Godric stopped in mid-retaliation. "_Finally_! I can't wait to get out of this – this _thing_ vicinity!"

Salazar rolled his eyes, knowing full-well that this declaration was just asking for a sharp retort from Rowena. He hurriedly cut her off. "Then it is time to discuss our mission again, Madam Ravenclaw."

"Mission?" Rosalind asked, feeling a sinking emotion in the pit of her stomach. She had been avoiding this specific discussion for the past two months.

"We still need to bring you to face Lord Ambrosius and the Council."

**A/N:** Another chapter is done! What did you think? Go on – tell me what you think! Review!

**To my reviewers:**

**Calla:** Now, isn't that about time you'd show up? ;) I'm glad you enjoy this – and I stand by my word – he is _not_.

**Cecilia Orechio:** When exactly is Thanksgiving? It's too long away, anyway, I suppose.

What happened on the previous chapter is that I went a bit back – to the point where Rowena and Helga are sent to bed. They had no idea what Rosalind discussed with Salazar and Godric, and this was where I explained a bit about Rowena's background and exactly what did Godric do in the stable when he found Rowena there. I think you got confused with the sentence " The girl no longer resembled a haystack, for certain." – I was referring there to the way Godric described Rowena to Gwyneth in the first chapter. Sorry if I got you confused...

**Freespirit65:** Thank you! Have you updated your story, by the way?

**Eratosthenese: **Thanks! :D

**Bb:** Yay! Everybody loves Rowena/Godric interaction! There's a bit more in this chapter, and quite a bit more in the next!

**Sara:** You mean I describe things in too much detail? Hmm... should work on that... I'm having the story beta-d now, so hopefully the next chapter I upload would be a beta-d one. Thank you!

**Shadow-n-the-dark:** Thank you! Thank you!((Bows extravagantly)) Oh, I like Ryan very much myself. Fortunately (as cruel as it may sound) I wrote his death scene before I actually wrote his background and got attached to him...


	6. Book and Armour

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Hello, people! Once again I'm late in updating. School tends to do that to people, I'm afraid. However, this chapter is a bit longer than the ones preceding it, so I hope it makes up for its lateness.

Enjoy!

Oh, and if you enjoy reading Marauders' Era fics, I've decided that I will try and recommend a few for you:

- My own fic (yeah, yeah, I know, I am shameless...) _The Story of Four Friends_ (A work in progress).

- Cecilia Orechio's _The Time Guardian and the Prophecies_ (A work in progress)

- White-Lily-Blossom's _Seasons and Changing Ways _(one-shot, complete).

I like reading Marauders' Era fics – so if any of you writes any or knows of recommended ones, I would like you to share!

Thanks!

**Chapter 5 – Book and Armour**

_"In modern times, most of the Wizarding World views Salazar Slytherin as the one who ruined the Founders' unity. Most people believe it was his dislike to those of Muggle heritage that resulted in his leaving the school._

_"Naturally, we cannot cast all the blame on him, for in truth it is equally shared by all four Founders, who, in the late years of their lives, started disagreeing with each other on minor issues concerning the way they should run the school. _

_"However, truth or falsity, what is remembered by all is Salazar's departure. _

_"Why had he left? What was the main reason behind his angry leave-taking? The obvious reply 'because he disliked Muggle-borns' does not hold sway, for it is known that Helga Hufflepuff herself was of Muggle heritage. If the reason for his departure was only hate to Muggle blood, why did he help founding Hogwarts to begin with? He knew for a fact that Helga was one and still he aided the founding._

_"So, yes, one of his reasons for leaving was definitely his disagreement with the others concerning the admission of Muggle-borns to the school – but was it all?"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

_What's this?_ Helga thought, turning sharply to look at the woman who had been like a surrogate mother to her for the past two years.

Almost as if she heard Helga's words, Rowena demanded "What's this?"

"Rowena!" Rosalind's voice was slightly too shrill to Helga's liking. Whatever the two men had to discuss with her was not going to be good. Rosalind's voice continued climbing into panicky tones. "I want you and Helga in bed – now!"

Helga started getting up from her chair, even though she wanted more than anything else to listen in on them.

"No!"

Helga was shocked. She stared at her best friend. Never in her life had Rowena dared disobeying her mother. She was always the obedient daughter – Rosalind never had to issue a command more than once. But now...

Now Rowena was standing, auburn hair loose from its knot, skirts wrinkled, eyes blazing – she looked almost wild.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Rosalind demanded in a sharp tone, blotches of red appearing on her face, mute testimony to her anger.

"Oh, I heard you well enough, _Mother_." Rowena seethed. "And I said _no_. I am twenty year old – you can't cuddle me for ever! What are they talking about? Who is Lord Ambrosius? What is this Council? Why do you have to face them? I will not leave till I have some sort of an answer! You've kept me in the dark long enough and I have had enough! I know you and Father have been keeping secrets from me. I know that you think I can't handle things – but you're _wrong_. You always underestimated me. I knew there was something weird going on for a long time – long before Father was murdered. You should have hidden the book from me – not charm it so I cannot see what written! I have a brain and I can use it, as you of all people must know!"

Helga watched Rosalind with bated breath. The woman's anger seemed to rise as if to match her daughter's, but when she spoke, her voice was deathly calm.

"You will go to your room now, Rowena, and you will go there without protest. You are still my daughter and therefore honour-bound to do everything I tell you till you are married. I don't want to repeat this twice."

Rowena lowered her head. To anyone but Helga it would have looked like the young woman deferred to her elder, but _she_ knew better. _She_, unlike Rosalind and the two men, had a clear view to her friend's eyes. The glint in them was the farthest away from defeat.

"Let us go, Helga." She said in a deceptively sweet voice.

Helga glanced at Rosalind and then hurried after the already retreating Rowena. The moment the door to the main room closed behind them, Rowena put a finger to her lips, telling Helga to keep quiet. She tiptoed to the door and put her ear to it.

"What are you _doing_?" Helga hissed.

"Listening in, naturally." Rowena whispered with a mild grin. "Mother will immediately know if I will use magic – but she can't detect good old Muggle tricks. Can you go and fetch our water cups?"

Helga nodded and walked to their room, making as little noise as she possibly could. What Muggle tricks did her friend think of using? What had the glasses to do with it? How on earth did _Rowena_ think of something when she, the Muggle-born, did not?

She picked up their glasses and went back to where Rowena was pressing her ear to the door. She handed her one and watched as she put the glass to the door.

"It's supposed to enhance the sound." Rowena explained in a soft voice. "Put it to the door and listen."

She did as she was told, glad that Rowena deemed her worthy to eavesdrop together with her.

"-Great Merlin, woman!" Came Godric's voice, "I have no idea what he wants! How many times do we have to explain this to you? We are merely the delivery service. WE do what we are told!"

"And when exactly did the son of Gawain Gryffindor become a mere delivery boy? Your father would never have stooped so low!" Said Rosalind

"Don't you talk to me like this, Madam! I have done you no wrong! I am a man of honour and I have been commanded by the Council to bring you to face it. That is what I will do!"

"So much for the pride of the Gryffindors." Rosalind said scornfully, "Sticking to a corrupt system just because it _is_ the system."

"Madam," said Salazar softly, "It is not willingly that we do as the Council commands us. We have been sworn Servants of the Council eleven years ago. We cannot disobey them."

There was a shocked silence for a while before Rosalind said weakly "I didn't realize. Forgive me. But – why? Both your families were members of the First House since the day the Council was founded. You are _part_ of the Council. And if you are Servants, then-"

"Then we cannot rejoin the Council." Godric said bitterly. "Ever. Oh, yes, Ambrosius knew exactly who he had to take out in order to have everything his way. He found a way to make sure that the Gryffindors and the Slytherins will never plague the Council again with their troublesome manner."

"Still," Rosalind said softly, "I will not come with you. When he had exiled Ryan, Ambrosius lost any kind of friendship that may have been between us. He had doomed the two of us and our child to an outcast's life, and indirectly he had cause Ryan's untimely death. For that, he has my eternal hatred. If I lay my eyes on him, I might just as well kill him. For what he had done, there is no forgiveness. I shall remain here till the day I die."

Next to her, Helga felt Rowena involuntarily flinch. What was this about exile? What was it that Rosalind and Ryan kept from their daughter?

"But don't you understand, Madam? Ambrosius _will_ have you if that is what he wants." Said Salazar, "He may have done a mistake by sending the two of us who are reluctant to do his will – but if we come empty-handed he will just send more willing Servants and get you anyway."

"I will not come."

"_Madam_!"

"I suppose that what he wants from me is my research on instant transportation. I rather die before I see the research of my life in the hands of that murderer. You will just have to go back empty-handed, my lords."

"And what about your daughter?" Godric asked.

"What about her?" Rosalind's voice was sharp.

"Will you always keep her like this? In the dark? Not knowing who her father was? Not knowing that most of the Wizarding World regards him as something close to a hero?"

"The day she'll find the book I believe he had hidden for her will be the day she will learn."

"Never, then – because you will never tell her of the book."

"Exactly. I love her too much to let her know."

"I think we got the gist of the matter." Rowena muttered to Helga. "Let's go to bed." And she walked to the bedroom.

"I don't get it." Helga said truthfully. "What happened there?"

Rowena slid out of her clothes and into her nightdress. "Well, from what I understood, there's this government sort of thing, called the Council. It is headed by a man called Ambrosius, and from the tone of their words, I think neither Mother nor that pair like him much."

"That's an understatement." Helga said dryly. "I think the phrase your mother used was 'I might as well kill him'."

Rowena chuckled. "I never thought Mother could say such a thing... Anyway, so this Ambrosius fellow exiled Mother and Father for some reason and somehow got lords Gryffindor and Slytherin out of the Council and did something that prevents them from influencing the Council. Now he wants something to do with Mother's research concerning travel by magic and he sent them to fetch Mother – but Mother will not have it. That is about it."

Helga followed Rowena's lead and changed into her nightgown. She expected Rowena to get into bed, but the other woman surprised her. She closed and opened various drawers and boxes in the room, frantically searching for something.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something I filched from Father a long time ago." Rowena answered, her head stuck deep inside their wardrobe.

"What?" Helga was surprised. "Why would you filch something from your own Father?"

"Because I was curious about things." She said as if it explained everything.

"Curious about what?"

"Well, I was just six at the time, so I did not really understand, and my reading was not very good-"

"What are you babbling about? Just get to the point, please."

"I'm getting there! Anyway, Father used to disappear a lot back then, and when he came back, his clothes were covered with dirt and grass stains. So one day, Mother was too busy doing something, and she asked me to wash his clothes for him. When you wash clothes – what is the first thing you do?"

"Err..." Helga looked at her friend uncertainly, not sure if this was a rhetorical question or not.

"Come on, Helga! It's not a trick question! What is the first thing you do?"

"Sorry, Raven. Search the pockets, of course – so that nothing left there by mistake will get wet."

"Exactly. So I search the pockets, and what do I find? A piece of parchment with a doodle on it. It was not a very good one. It had a few crooked lines and a big X on it."

"A map?"

"You think of it now, when you're eighteen – but I was six and I thought it was simply a doodle Father made to pass the time – so I put it in my room and meant to return it to him."

"Only you never did."

"That's right. Now I want to find it."

"Why?"

"Because of the book Mother was talking about. If I'm not very much mistaken – it will lead me to the book. I think that Father meant for me to find the map – otherwise, how could he have expected me to find it? He probably put the parchment there just so I would find it. He knew I wouldn't be able to know what it is when I was six – I think he guessed I'll remember it at some point and realize what it is!"

"That is a lot of assuming, Raven." Helga said carefully, not wanting to spoil Rowena's excitement. "It might really be just a doodle."

"I doubt it. Now where _is_ it?"

Helga winced as something metallic crashed on the floor. It was a tin box. Its lid fell on impact with the floor and everything in it scattered.

"Damn!" Rowena swore, and then froze.

The sound of running feet came from the corridor and the door burst open to reveal Rosalind. A very scared Rosalind for that matter.

"What are you _doing_?" She demanded upon seeing Rowena trying to pick up a selection of stones, pieces of parchment, carved pieced of wood and the like. She seemed to have regained her composure.

"Sorry, Mother." Rowena muttered, not really sorry by the way her eyes rolled, Helga decided. "I was looking for my hairbrush."

Not a very good lie, considering the hairbrush was in plain sight on the bed, but Rosalind was preoccupied enough not to notice. "Go to sleep." She said shortly and walked out, closing the door behind her.

"That was close." Rowena said after a few moments. "Here. I knew I'd find it sooner or later. Hold this, please?"

Helga gingerly took from her the rather old, grubby folded parchment. Rowena quickly put everything back into the tin box and put it back into the wardrobe where it lurked for over a decade. She then retrieved the parchment from Helga and unfolded it.

"I was right!" She said triumphantly. "It _is_ a map. Look!"

Helga peeked at the parchment and reluctantly nodded. "Yes, I suppose you are right. What are you going to do then? Show it to your mother?"

"Merlin, no!" Her friend said indignantly. "I am going to look for that book, of course! Mother would have me completely ignorant to their past – but I want to know! Now let's go to sleep. It is getting late."

Helga shrugged and slipped into bed.

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She was woken up early the next morning. She doubted Rowena meant for her to wake – but the other woman dropped the hairbrush by mistake and the noise alerted Helga that something was not as it should have been.

It was dark – maybe two hours after midnight, she estimated. It was also very cold, and she shivered beneath the warm blankets. Sometime during the night the fire had burnt out.

"What are you doing?" She whispered, startling Rowena.

"Oh, nothing! Get back to sleep Helga. I'll talk to you in the morning."

But Helga's mind, brought to sharp awakening by Rowena's tone of speech, refused to listen. "You are going to look for the book, are you not?"

The dark figure that was Rowena sighed. "Yes, I am. Are you going to tell Mother?"

Helga felt rather hurt that Rowena did not trust her, but said "Of course not! I am coming with you, however!"

"_What_?"

"You heard me. I'm coming with you. You are going to be needing help anyway. He probably had it buried, and you can't dig all night by yourself."

Not waiting for Rowena's reply, she slid out of bed and started pulling her clothes on. "Don't forget your warm coat." She said briskly. "Nor your scarf. And put an extra skirt on – and your heavy stockings. The snow has not entirely melted yet."

"What are you – my mother?" Rowena grumbled.

"No – but in her absence _someone_ has to make sure you are taking care of yourself. How did you plan on leaving? They might be still awake."

"Through the window."

"Oh, good – _what?_"

"Through the window."

Helga stared at the shadow that was Rowena incredulously. "Through what window?"

"Our window, of course. Come on. We will have to break into the tool shed to get a shovel. Ready?"

"Err... yes, I suppose I am." She said, though in her head, her brain screamed. _What do you _mean_ you suppose you are ready? You are not ready! Climbing out of the window in the middle of the night? You may get killed! You may lose your way, gets stuck in a bog and never be found again! Is she out of her mind? Are _you_ out of your mind?_

Her brain continued shrieking insults at her, but she calmly watched as Rowena carefully unlatched their window and climbed out. She heard a soft thump as her friend hit the ground five feet bellow the windowsill.

"Come on, Helga! We don't have all day!" Came the hissed whisper.

She followed her friend outside. She just _knew_ that her jump down was not as graceful as Rowena's. She landed straight on her behind and had to ask for Rowena's help to get up again. Rowena muffled her laughter and pulled her back up.

They walked a small distance in the dark. When Rowena deemed they were far enough to safely light her wand, she muttered "_Lumos!_" And the small wand-light flooded Helga's eyes.

Rowena pulled out the map her father had drawn many years before and they started walking.

It was strange walking in the darkness. The Glen was very familiar to Helga – having spent there a large part of the past few years, but she had never traveled it after dark – especially not when winter still prevailed. It was gloomy, and they had trouble seeing outside the circle of wand-light.

She had no idea for how long they walked. More than two hours, that was for certain, but also less than four. It was already starting to get light when Rowena said "We are here. It's this hollow here – I'm sure."

And then they started to dig. Rowena went first, clearing the snow from the small hollow and breaking the tough ground, first using her magic to warm it by little. She worked until her arms were threatening to fall (or so she told Helga) and then they switched. Rowena rested until Helga could not continue and they switched again.

It was a little after daybreak when Rowena let out a cry of victory and fell to her knees, her hands clearing the dark soil from a large wooden crate. Helga helped her until they managed to uncover the lid. With combined efforts, they pulled it off.

"An armour?" Rowena said weakly. "What has an armour to do with the book?"

"I don't know, Raven – but let's at least see if there is anything else beneath it." Helga told her and started pulling the bits of armour out.

There was a preserving charm on the crate, for the metal was not touched by rust, nor were the leather straps rotten. The metal parts were painted blue, and on the breast of the suit of armour (for it turned out to be a whole knight's armour) was a large bronze eagle.

Beneath all the various parts of the armour, was a blue velvet case with golden strings. Rowena picked it up reverently and untied the strings, pulling out a simple leather-bound notebook. She opened it. Helga peeked from behind her shoulder. The words on the first page were very simple:

_The Legacy of the Phoenix_

_A study of History_

_By Ryan Raven Lord of House Ravenclaw_

"Is this the book?" She asked her friend quietly.

"It has to be." Was all she said.

They packed the armour back into the crate. Then Rowena levitated it and they started heading for home. The way home turned out harder than she expected – mostly because Rowena was reading while she walked and had to be herded to the right direction.

By the time they reached the house, two things happened. One, Rowena finished reading the book, and her face told Helga that she had come to a decision, and two, three figures bore down on them and started talking all at the same time.

"-Where _have_ you been?!"

"-Worried you mother to death-"

"-Could have been found by a wandering Muggle and put to-"

"-Was about to go mad with worry-"

"-Never do that again-"

"-What _is_ it that you're levitating?"

This final question came from Godric, who was more amused than worried.

But with that simple question, he directed Rosalind's attention to what Rowena was holding. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally letting out in a weak voice "You found the book."

"Yes. I did." Rowena said proudly. "And I have read it."

"_All_ of it?" Salazar asked in surprise. It had taken him more than a week to finish reading it.

"While we were walking." Helga said with a small grin. "And we found Master Ravenclaw's armour – I think." She nodded at the crate that still hovered in midair.

No one was listening however, because Rowena's and Rosalind's staring contest caught their attention.

"So now you know." Rosalind said.

"Yes."

"And what do you think?"

"I don't... know what to think." Rowena admitted. "I was angry at first, because you hid things from me. Then I was confused, because I wasn't sure of all that I read. Now I simply know what I am going to do."

"And what is that?" Rosalind's voice was weak.

"I am going to face the Council in your stead."

"_What?_" Three voices demanded in alarm. Helga was simply surprised.

"You are most certainly _not_!" Rosalind said fiercely.

Helga expected Rowena to rise, but it never happened. Her friend merely smiled a sad, small smile. "You cannot stop me, Mother. I want to face the man who had killed my father and tell him exactly what I think of him. I want to see the faces of all the men who had helped him bring our world to such a state. I want this – and I _will_ have it. I know just as much as you do about our system of travel by magic, and that will give me legitimate reason to come with lords Gryffindor and Slytherin into Stonehenge. If you refuse me, I will find another way to go. I just needed you to know."

The staring contest was long. None of two wanted to be the first to give in, but in the end, Rosalind lowered her eyes in defeat. "Very well," She said. "I can no longer keep you hear. You may go."

"And I am coming with her."

Helga looked for the person who said that, before realizing, with a sinking feeling, that it was _her_ who had let these words out of her mouth.

"Helga!" Rosalind said in shock. "You are not my daughter, but I care for you as if you were – I cannot let you go to Stonehenge!"

"Yes, you can." She said softly, feeling bolder by the minute. "And you will. I cannot stay here without Rowena. I always did things without her – and I am not going to let her go by herself. Besides," She said with a wry grin "She is going to need a chaperone, will she not? What impression will she make if she comes alone with two men – an unmarried girl?"

"Absolutely out of the question!" This did not come from Rosalind, but from Salazar.

"Why not?"

"Because you are a woman."

"That cannot be it and you know it! Rowena is a woman and you did not say a word against her coming!"

"That is different."

"How?"

"Rowena is from a long line of witched and wizards. She knows far more than you about magic."

"That is true – but that does not make her any better than me!"

"It... it does."

"Does not!"

"Salazar!" Godric finally snapped. "This is no time to start this argument. Helga may come if Madam Ravenclaw says she can."

Four pairs of eyes focused on Rosalind, who finally said, he voice quiet "She may go."

**A/N:** And we reached the end of another chapter. What did you think? Please review! I _know_ I'm going to need a lot of cheering up tomorrow – I have a math quiz...

**And to my reviewers ((hugs them)):**

**Freespirit65:** I added you to my author alert – you probably know this by now, so I will no longer bug you about again... Glad you enjoyed the previous chapter – and I love L/J as well – my other story is about them (in a way...).

**Miss Anonymous hp:** ((laughs)) Oh, no worries there. It's ok that not everybody likes this relationship, and I like constructive criticism when I can get it – it always rewarding in way – shows that someone's interested enough in you story.

I had that conversation with my friends as well – we weren't sure whether Ravenclaw and Gryffindor _had_ heirs at all – but I decided to take this line of story anyway, because it seemed interesting to me.

I promise you I didn't do it on purpose. It was only after someone reviewed and pointed it out to me that I saw there were some similarities between my characters and the characters from the Marauders' Era – maybe it's because I like those stories most. Take into count however, that characters tend to develop as the story itself develops, and in the end the characteristics for which the Founders are best known will be the dominant ones.

Thank you for your review!

**Bb:** Thanks! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

**Eratosthenese:** I continued! Though you had better be ready for long intervals between updates now that school is back...

**Cecilia Orechio:** Thank you very much! Yeah, I knew a bit about Thanksgiving, but I wasn't too sure. I really hope this chapter was up to standard and that you enjoyed it. By the way, I can't wait for you to update your story!

**Sara:** Well, I figured that the way people are sorted into the different Houses is by seeing what is the most dominant characteristic in them that fits into one of the Houses, which essentially means that it is the Founder's most dominant feature. Did that make sense at all?

Thank you very much!

**Shadow-n-the-dark:** Heh :D I just _love_ love/hate relationships! That should give you a clue...

**Seeya all next time!**


	7. On the Road

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** ((sighs)) Now, I know it has been a long time since I've last updated, but don't be angry with me... My computer burned. And I _do_ mean burned: smell of burning plastic, smoke (well not exactly _smoke_, per se...). I was computer-less for over a week.

On a more cheerful note – remember when I told you my copy of Prisoner of Azkaban was drowned during a flood in a neighbour's house? Guess what? I've got a new copy!

So anyway, this is the new chapter! Hope you will enjoy it as much as you enjoyed the previous ones!

**Chapter 6 – On the Road**

_"Out of the four Founders of Hogwarts, it is a known fact that we know the least of Helga Hufflepuff – kind lady, great witch, Muggle born._

_"It is this last fact that condemned this brilliant woman to relative anonymity._

_"Her three companions, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, were all of old, formidable families and could trace their ancestors back to the time of Merlin and Morgana. There was not a drop of Muggle blood in their lines for centuries – the ultimate "Pure Bloods", as some might say. Not so was the case of Helga, who was a pure Muggle born._

_"At the time, the prejudices of the Wizarding World were as yet unformed and the community accepted any witch or wizard with open arms. But still, the fact that Helga was not only a Muggle born, but also a woman, put her immediately at the bottom of the social scale. She was slandered and ridiculed, considered inferior to everyone. The leaders of the magic community considered her weak and tried to discredit her on countless opportunities._

_"Through all of the Founders' hardships, however, Helga proved her worth and showed the world that no matter what your lineage is, you can always aspire to higher levels and succeed in proving everybody wrong._

_"Though sweet and generous of nature, Helga had in her a steely streak. She did not stand down when bullied and rarely let go of something she had wanted and had believed in..."_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Salazar's eyes snapped to look at the older woman. "What was that?"

Rosalind sighed. "I said Helga may go, Lord Slytherin. Lord Gryffindor said it depended on me, and I say she may go. Do you want to contradict what your companion had said?"

He looked into her eyes, too flabbergasted to say anything. There was a steely glint in her eyes, and he knew that whatever he had to say would not sit well with this woman – even if he _could_ speak it out loud.

_How could Godric agree to this?_ He asked himself. _It is bad enough that we have to take this Rowena – now we also have to take care of her friend? It's preposterous._

"Now that this is settled-" Helga began, only to be cut off by him, when he had finally found his voice.

"No, it is _not_ settled." He said fiercely. "Why do you have to come? This mission has nothing to do with _you_."

Helga was a small person. She did not have a presence that made people notice her. She was quiet, pretty and tame.She did not speak out of turn and was always cheerful.

Not that day, though.

"Excuse me?" She said softly. "Has nothing to do with me? Are you completely sure, _Lord Slytherin_? You come to my home, spend the winter with us, talk nicely and act like a gentlemen. Then you turn your hide and demand to take my surrogate mother away from me and from her daughter – then when she refuses you settle on taking her daughter instead? My best friend? My _only_ friend? Who gave you permission to change our lives like this? Who gave you authority to come and break families? Who said you had the power in you to stop me?" Her voice rose with every question. "Rowena is as good as my own sister. She has been with me through thick and thin for over a decade and by Merlin I will do the same for her. You will not tear me away from her. I told you this – I am going. There is nothing you can do to stop me. Just try is, my _lord_."

Salazar felt his cheeks redden. He would have retorted were it not for Godric, who chose that moment to start laughing.

"The little bird has some mettle in her!" He chortled. "I have not seen you blushing since you were... eleven, I think. I have to bring her along just for a chance to see you become all flustered!"

Salazar turned to face his friend, his eyes shooting sparks. Godric, however, merely waved his anger aside and said "It is settled, my friend. She will come. She is right of course. You know what kind of women go alone with men these days." His eyes twinkled and he glanced at Rowena meaningfully. The young woman glared at him, grasping his meaning immediately.

"That was discourteous of you, my lord." She said in a voice that could have frozen the sun. "I will go and get my things ready. Are you coming Helga?"

"Yes." Helga said, still glaring at Salazar and hurried after her already retreating friend.

"I will leave you to your own devices, my lords." Rosalind said softly. "I assume you will depart next week?"

"Yes, Madam." Godric said, sobering up. "There is no point and dallying any further. We are overdue as it is."

Rosalind nodded and swept after the girls.

That left the two men alone.

"Let us go to the stable, Salazar." Godric said softly. Salazar was not sure he liked his tone.

The moment the door to the stable closed behind them, Godric turned to face him, his eyes piercingly blue.

"I know you hate the idea, Salazar, but we really _do _need Helga along." He said with no further ado.

"I don't see why." Salazar replied stiffly. "She will be a burden to us. She is of Muggle blood and a woman to top it. She will be of no help."

"You don't see it, do you?" Godric said with a sigh. "Salazar, I wasn't jesting when I said that the only kind of woman to travel alone with men is a whore. Were we to bring Madam Ravenclaw by herself... well, that would not have been troublesome. She is an older, respectable lady, and I gather that she is well known in the community – or rather, _was_ well known. Rowena, however... She is a young woman – and a good looking one at that. Were she to come alone with us, what kind of respect do you think she would get from the Council?"

Salazar frowned.

Godric nodded. "I see that you can get my meaning. The chances are, that Ambrosius will wave her off and that would be it. He would either send us again, or make use of Rowena and get rid of her somehow. She _needs_ a chaperone. Helga was right. This is our best course of action, and I will stand by it."

"I don't like the idea, Godric." Salazar said with a shake of his head. "It will not be a safe journey as it is, and with a Muggle born-"

"Will you just drop it?!" Godric snapped, his temper getting the best of him. "I know she is a Muggle born – no need to repeat it! It doesn't matter! Rowena trusts her – and she needs a confidant on this journey. She will be sour all the time if she will not have anyone to speak to except us. Helga is coming. I don't want you sulking anymore. It is unbecoming."

"When did_ you_ become my mother?"

"When Dahlia won the draw."

"What has my sister to do with it – and what's this about a draw?"

"Before I finished my training – just before I forged the sword – Dahlia and I drew lots on who is to mother you when you are doing foolish things. I lost – but that's only because you sister is cheat."

"Well known fact. Very well, Godric," Salazar finally said silkily. "Helga may come – but I expect repayment."

"What sort... of repayment?" Godric demanded suspiciously.

"Oh, I don't know... let me think about it." Salazar smiled evilly.

"Don't take _too_ long this time." His friend said sourly. "Last time it took you three weeks and then you came up with that revolting idea that I would _enjoy_ wallowing in your horse's droppings for a week."

"Ah, those were the days."

"Speaking of Dahlia – have you heard from her lately?"

Salazar nodded somberly. "Ambrosius' men came over – I got the letter just after we left for Caerwyn Valley – they decided Dahlia had in her house my father's wand. Never mind that the wand was snapped into a thousand pieces when that cauldron exploded – Ambrosius decided he wants it. So five men came over – hexed Bran when he tried to protect Dahlia and the children – and would not let go. She wrote that if your mother would not have gotten there they probably would have killed him."

"What was my mother doing there?" Godric said in surprise.

"Didn't you know?" Salazar was genuinely astonished. "She left you uncle Gladwyn's home a few months ago and moved to Sir Rhys' so she can be closer to Dahlia. Are you sure she had not told you anything?"

"Certain."

"Oh. Then, there you go."

The two men stood in the stable in silence for a while.

"It's funny, you know," Godric finally said softly. "How we let women control our lives."

"They are annoying, they are possessive. They will not let you be the one to be right..." Salazar said in amusement. "But I'd like to see you stand up to your mother on one single occasion. I dare you."

Godric snorted and headed to the door. "You can keep your money Salazar. Last time I tried to defy my mother I ended up cleaning the outhouse for a month. No thank you. I'll be her willing slave for ever."

"Godric. You were eight year old when Ceridwen made you clean the outhouse. You can't _still_ be afraid!" He followed his friend outside, staring at his back.

Godric turned and grimaced. "I'm scarred for life, my friend – I will _never_ cross blades with my mother again."

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"Are you sure that you have packed everything?" Rosalind demanded.

Salazar sighed. It had been a week since the decision to leave had been made. Since then their days were filled with packing and planning. Rosalind gave numerous advices to the young women and warned them against the people they might meet once outside the Glen, and gave the men an equal amount of threats.

Salazar now knew what could be done to each and every part of his body was he to let harm come to the Rowena or Helga. He did not fancy being castrated or decapitated – and these were Rosalind's milder threats. The woman was too protective, he had decided.

They were all standing on the clear ground, on which patches of snow still showed, just outside the Ravenclaw house. The horses were already saddled, the baggage charmed to featherweight.

"Yes, Mother." Rowena said, and Salazar found he had to admire her patience. In the past two days Rosalind would not let go of her daughter for a single moment – it was a miracle that the girl had not burst as yet – though he could see a nerve twitching in her face. She was probably fighting the urge to strangle her mother.

Rosalind's and Rowena's relationship had suffered great change since Rowena discovered all that her mother tried to hide from her. He guessed that the younger woman no longer trusted her mother wholly.

"We've got everything, Rosalind." Helga said softly.

"Clean pairs of stockings? Tunics? Woolen scarves? Extra cloak? Hairbrush?"

"Yes, Mother." Rowena replied patiently. "We have everything."

"Your wands?"

"Yes."

"Your good dresses?"

"Yes."

"The book?"

"Err... yes." There was hesitation in Rowena's voice, and Salazar realized that she did not expect Rosalind to agree to give her the book. She had most likely filched it during the night.

"Good. Make sure none of Ambrosius' men catches you with it. It is priceless."

"Yes, Mother."

Rosalind turned to face Godric and Salazar. Her eyes hardened. "I have already had the _talk_ with you, gentlemen. I presume there's no need for me to repeat it?"

"No, Madam." Godric hurriedly assured her and Salazar felt the need to repress a snigger. She had scared Godric half to death with her _Talk_.

"Good. Now, I have made you some food for the first few days of your journey-" She pushed a large parcel into Helga's arms "-And here is a little money, in case you run out of food-" She handed Rowena a small leather purse "- and I expect you to write weekly, young lady. Is that clear?"

Rowena smiled. It was the first true smile she had shown since discovering her father's true identity. "I will, Mother. Are you sure you will not come with us?"

"Oh, yes! I like it here – and Merlin forbids I will face Ambrosius again. I said it once and I said it again – I might kill him on sight. I had better remain here. Now, you know the terrain, Rowena. Do not start riding on those horses until you reach the mouth of the Glen."

"Yes, Mother."

They fell silent. Godric and Salazar started walking towards their horses with Helga in tow.

"Well..." Rowena said after a while. "I suppose that this is it, is it?"

"Yes." Rosalind said softly. "This is it."

More silence ensued. Rowena stayed where she was.

"You need to go, dear." Rosalind said. "It is time."

"Yes, it is time."

Still, the girl did not make a move to leave.

"Rowena." Helga called. "We need to go. The sun is already high up."

With a cry that startled Salazar so much that he dropped the bag he was tying to his saddle, Rowena threw herself on her mother and sobbed into her shoulder.

"There, there, dear." Rosalind said. "You will see me again in a month – two at the most. It should not take you longer than that. There, there. Helga-" She motioned the girl.

Helga hurried to Rosalind's side and helped disentangle Rowena from her neck. She led her sobbing friend away, holding her tightly.

Salazar averted his eyes, and knew very well that Godric did the same next to him. "Let us go." He said. "We need to get out of Caerwyn Valley before nightfall."

Godric nodded and grasped Griffith's bridle.

They walked for a while in near silence. Helga was whispering soothing words to her distraught friend, and Rowena was sniffling a little.

It seemed that Godric was fed up with the noise. "For Merlin's sake, woman! Have you no shame?" He snapped. "Sniveling like a little girl who lost her toy! Are you a grown woman or are you child?"

_Oh, dear._ Salazar groaned inwardly. Godric knew _exactly_ how to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

"How _dare_ you?!" Rowena cried in anger. "How _dare_ you belittle me? You are nothing but a-"

But whatever it was that Godric was, Salazar never learned, for Helga had put her hand over her friend's mouth. "Hush, Rowena. You are a lady."

Rowena muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _Lady, my arse_. Salazar fought to stifle a laugh.

They reached the mouth of the Glen after nearly two hours of steady walk.

"Well," Rowena said, her voice cool. "We can now ride the horses safely. If we want to make it out of the valley by nightfall we had better do it now."

"Very well." Godric said. "Helga will ride with me and _you_ will ride with Salazar."

Salazar liked the idea. He still was not sure about Helga joining them on this journey and did not fancy being nearer to her than absolutely needed. The arrangement would make it possible for him to get acquainted better with Rowena and see what made her tick, while in the same time limit his time spent with Helga.

He liked the idea very much, but he had also noticed a major drawback- nay, impossibility.

_Why do I have to be so observant?_ He thought bitterly. Out loud, he said "It will not work, Godric."

"Why not?" Godric demanded.

"Because my horse is much smaller than yours – and Rowena is – I beg your pardon, Rowena – bigger than Helga. It would be for the best if Rowena rides with you."

"Absolutely not!" Both people in question protested hotly, and then glared at each other.

_How similar they are... Yet they are not aware of it..._

"I am afraid that this it the only option open to us, my friends."

"Really, Rowena." Helga said, her voice gentle. "It is only for a ride. It's not like we are asking you to marry him."

"As if I would _want_ to marry him." Rowena said snidely.

"As if I would want to marry _you_!" Godric retorted – rather lamely in Salazar's opinion.

"Look," He said in what he hoped was a placating tone. "This is the best arrangement that can be made. You don't have to speak to each other – only ride. Please, don't make it harder than it already is. It is only for a week or so."

The two exchanged vehement glances.

"Very well." Godric grunted.

Rowena only nodded curtly. They were not happy about the arrangement.

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Helga was quiet as they rode through the valley. She was sitting before Salazar on his horse. He had his arms around her, holding the reins, easily looking ahead above her head. A small distance away from them rode Godric and Rowena. The two seemed to sink into sullen silence.

Not so with Helga, however. During the winter, Salazar came to realize that this was a cheerful girl, who was rarely down and always had a good thing to say on every person she met. It was almost impossible to shut her up, he had learned.

Now however, she did not utter a word. He glanced down at her and was startled to see tears streaming down her lightly tanned cheeks.

"What is the matter?" He asked.

"Nothing." She whispered.

_Nothing, my horse's backside_. "You are crying."

"I'm not." She denied, hurriedly wiping her cheeks.

"Yes, you are. What is wrong?"

"It really is nothing, Lord Slytherin."

Taking a deep breath, as if it cost him a lot, he said "Call me Salazar, Helga. We are going to be companions for a while, and it really gets cumbersome to be called Lord Slytherin on an hourly basis. Now tell me, what is bad enough to make a happy person such as you shed tears? Is it Rowena? Godric?"

"No." She said, a small smile breaking her somber expression. "Though I have to admit that their behaviour frustrates me. No, it's just that... I'm leaving home. Completely. And... I get the feeling that I am not going to return here – at least not for a very long time."

"Nonsense! This business should be over within two months at the most – you heard Rosalind." But to himself he said: _You know you are lying. You have the same bad feeling as her. Ambrosius does not summon people for a few days' worth of chatting. And you know that people who have talked to Ambrosius were never seen again. They are only girls! You should have told them, warned them._

In the meanwhile, she shook her head. "I am not a seer, and I don't really believe in premonitions – Side effect of spending so many years with Rowena, I think – but when I look at this valley – the place that had been my home my entire life... I suppose you could say that I have a hunch that says I'm not going to be back for a very long time."

She then turned her face to the road ahead sank into her own thoughts.

They stopped that night just outside the valley, somewhat glad to have the place behind them. Rowena and Godric refused talking to each other, and Salazar would have given a lot to know what had passed between them during those long hours together on horseback. This went on during the following week as well.

Late one evening, when they sat in a small way-side inn, Godric said "In two days time we are going to reach Stonehenge. I hope you are ready."

Rowena seemed to fight her dislike of him and asked as politely as she could "What should we expect there? What kind of person is this Ambrosius?"

"Dominant. Domineering. Impressive. He talks a lot, makes a lot of wind, but in truth he is just a petty man who is a murderer and a usurper."

"Murderer?" Helga asked in a quavering voice.

"It was never proven." Salazar said quietly. "But Lord Gawain – Godric's father – was certain he had murdered my grandfather – Lord Fenwick."

"The former Chief Warlock?"

"Yes."

"He talks in long, elaborate words," Godric continued. "And will try to wind you around until you have no idea what is really said – but I daresay _you_ my Lady Ravenclaw, would have no trouble to see through it – as you do much the same thing. Takes one to know one, as they say."

Salazar winced. Something had definitely taken place between the two during their forced ride together.

Rowena did not miss the insult. She scowled. "I suppose that you know he is a petty man because of the same reason, _Lord Gryffindor_."

"Enough." Salazar said, hoping to head off any more insults. "As we were saying, Rowena. Ambrosius likes to have everything in control. He has the Council twisted around his little finger. Take into account that if you decide to oppose him, _we_ may not be able to help you. We are Servants of the Council and have to do as we are told. You will be on your own."

"I understand. Is there anything else?"

"Don't let him sweet-talk you." Godric said darkly. "He is very good at that and many a woman had fallen into his web. The best way to confront him is being direct, cut to the point and not let him twist things around. Keep the advantage to your side as long as you can. I think that it might be better if you did not say whose daughter you are until absolutely necessary."

She nodded gravely, for once not retorting with a snide comment.

"Ladies," Salazar said. "I believe we shall call it a night. We have a long day tomorrow and we may not be able to reach an inn. Good night."

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It was a raining. It was not much of a surprise of course, as it rained often in the British Isles. Even in the summer.

_One say I will leave this wretched country and live in a place where there is rain only in winter and there is lots of sun in the summer._ Salazar thought sourly as they led their horses into the stable two miles away from Stonehenge.

"Have we arrived?" Helga asked.

"No." Godric shook his head in disgust. "Ambrosius is a paranoid bastard. He does not allow horses within two miles of the Council Chamber – which means we have to walk the rest of the way on foot. Are you ladies up to it?"

"Have we a choice?" Rowena growled. "There is no place to take shelter apart of this place – and I do not think the stable boy taking care of the horses would offer us any hospitality. There is only going forward, wallowing in mud."

"Glad you can see reason." Godric murmured, earning him a glare.

They snuggled deep into their cloaks and started the long march to Stonehenge and the Council Chamber.

The fields leading to the massive stone circle were muddy. The mud was at least ankle-deep, sometimes deeper. The rain slashed at their cheeks and bare heads, soaking them, weighing them down.

"What kind of an imbecile is this Ambrosius?!" Rowena screeched above the roar of the storm.

"The worst kind!" Godric replied.

In the distance a lightening struck, soon followed by thunder.

_Just great_. Salazar thought. _Couldn't pick a better weather for such an important mission to be accomplished._

"The rain is getting stronger!" Helga shouted.

Salazar glanced at her. She looked utterly miserable. He assumed he did not look much better. That day could not get any worse, so he decided.

"How much further do we have to go?" Rowena's voice was barely heard above the shriek of the wind.

"Not much!" Salazar turned to shout. Not noticing where he was walking, his foot caught in some unseen burrow and he stumbled, falling straight onto Godric, and unintentionally tripping Helga as well, who pulled Rowena's arm for support.

They all found themselves in the mud, covered from head to toe in dung coloured muck.

"We look like monsters." He heard Helga's hysteric laugh.

_Great. Just great. I probably jinxed us, thinking it could not get worse..._

They helped each other up and continued their trudge.

It was not long till a voice cried "Who goes there?"

**A/N:** Ta-da! What did you think? Was it worth the wait? Is anything missing? Just write a review and tell me! I appreciate everything – comments, criticism (as long as it's constructive), anything! Thanks!

**And to my reviewers ((Huggles them all)):**

**Sara: **Thanks! Yeah, she reads fast – comes from years of doing nothing but reading books and climbing trees... :D

**Miss Anonymous hp: **Yeah it's funny how Helga and Salazar came out so nicely, as they are my least favourite of the Founders – now I love them to bits! Thank you!

**Freespirit65:** ((grins)) glad you like it... thank you for your review - I appreciate your giving away precious Saturday time – I know how little that time is ((looks in apprehension at her huge pile of homework and tell self that she'll do it during the weekend))

**Eratosthenese: **Thank you!

**Not a Homicidal Maniac:** Thank you very much! :)

**Cecilia Orechio:** No problem! Glad to help fellow fic-writers :D Truth be told, I never saw Helga being such a bold person, but as I was writing it, she seemed determined to have more character – I'm glad I didn't make her a wimp, though. I really love her as she is...

Thank you very much! I'll try and update the other story soon, but I'm kind of having a bit of a block on it...

**TheWildMage:** I have updated!!! :) ((laughs)) Sorry it took such a long time...

**Shadow-n-the-dark:** :) Very subtle clue indeed. Yes, it _will_ take them a while. Of course, Rowena and Helga are best of friends, as are Godric and Salazar – but between them all it will take a very long time, methinks – but not too long. Thank you very much!

**Chenelle:** Thank you! I appreciate it very much! I have read your stories and enjoyed them (as you could probably see from my comments). I hope you will continue enjoying this story!

**Well, this is it for now! I will update soon (probably in the upcoming week – assuming, of course, I'll manage to do most of my homework...) – seeya!**

**- Star of the North**


	8. Stonehenge Council

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Again, sorry for the delay. I seem to be doing that a lot lately, aren't I? I _finally_ have resolved _all _issues to do with my computer, and hopefully everything will be running smoothly again.

So enjoy this chapter, don't lose hope – I'm still around!

For all those who read _The Story of Four Friends_ (and even those who don't – you might just want to try!), the next chapter will take yet a while because first I had this huge writer's block, and now I still have to copy all the things that were on my old hard disk, and I have half a chapter written already, so I can't just start from scratch again. Bear with me!

Love you all!

-Star of the North

**Chapter 7 – Stonehenge Council**

_"Among the cruelest methods of demoting a wizard during the tenth century was making him Servant of the Council. It was often done to get rid of an enemy of one of the members of the Council, and at the time of the Founders the Council had over a hundred Servants._

_"In the process of becoming a Servant, the wizard in question was subjected to a series of spells similar in build and effect to the modern Imperius Curse._

_"Each Council member cast the spell on the future Servant until all twenty four members had had their turn._

_"When the process was completed, the Servant became bound to the Council, and had to do whatever the members wanted him to do. The obedience of the Servant depended on how strong his will was. Some were known to refuse a few orders given by a single member. Fewer had been known to throw off orders given by a small number of members. Mostly, however, none could prevail. In the end they were all crushed and became bitter, sullen men with no future but the endless compliance to the will of the Council._

_"The Council's mistake had been, as mentioned in previous chapters, its decision to tie Lords Slytherin and Gryffindor as Servants._

_"To become a Servant essentially meant that one could not join the Council as member for as long as one lived. Neither could children of a Servant while the Servant was still alive and bound to the Council. It was the best way in which could Lord Ambrosius, Chief Warlock at the time, deny Slytherin and Gryffindor their destined places in the First House of the Council._

_"This did not sit well with the two, who opposed everything the Council had done in those years, and saw it as their duty to fix all ills of the community. Being bound, however, they were efficiently thwarted._

_"To break the binding was deemed impossible..."_

**Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Godric did not like the tone in which the question was asked. Questions like "Who goes there?" were rarely of friendly quality. They normally preceded a clang of a dungeon's door being shut _or_ a shower of arrows. Sometimes both.

Next to him, he felt Salazar stiffen. His companion had picked the tone as well. He hurriedly headed it off.

"Good day!" Salazar called loudly and clearly, as to be heard over the storm. "We are headed for the Council meeting. You will do well letting us in. Lord Ambrosius awaits our return anxiously. We bring important guests to the Chamber."

"Just about anyone could say _that_." The owner of the voice said scathingly. "I will not let anyone get through me. The Chief Warlock had left no orders to anticipate travelers. Bugger off."

Godric gritted his teeth. Politeness had never been the Guards of the Chamber's forte. They were the worst type of wizard that could be found: deranged, usually magically weak, bullies, brutes and thugs. Most wizards did not want to get mixed up with _that_ kind of people. Godric, however, was not most wizards. He was powerful, strong of body, stubborn and refused to let anyone look down upon him. He never had much patience with niceties and protocol.

"Who are you?" He demanded sharply of the guard.

"What's that to _you_?" The guard said arrogantly. "I am a Guard of the Chamber. It is in my authority to clap you in irons and have you put to trial in front of the whole Council."

"Under what charges?" Godric mocked. "Asking a guard for his name so that I can lodge complaint with Ambrosius when I get to the Chamber?"

"_Lumos!_" The guard barked. A sudden light almost blinded Godric. He could see in the glare the outline of a large man who carried himself proudly. This was not an ordinary Guard of the Chamber. There was only one man in the Chamber Guard who thought so much of himself.

"Well, well, well... Look who we have got here, Salazar." He said with all the contempt he could muster. "Sir Randolf of the Chamber Guard. What an honour it is."

"Who are you?" Sir Randolf demanded, failing to recognize him.

Godric did not blame him. Now that he had light, he could see what they looked like. Helga had not been mistaken. All four of them looked like the Monster from the Swamp. They were covered by mud from head to toe. Their clothes were torn and they were tired and travel-stained. If he had been in Sir Randolf's place, he would not have been able to recognize himself as Godric Gryffindor, either.

Nevertheless, he drew himself proudly and said "I am surprised you do not recognize me, _Sir_ Randolf. You have known me since the day I was born."

"_Godric_." He heard Salazar hiss from behind him. "This is no time for clashes of words! Get a move on or hex him out of our way!"

"I heard that!" Randolf said angrily. "I can take you into custody over this!"

"As you have _said_." Godric said, rather patiently, even if he had to say so himself. "Funny how low can people sink."

"What does that suppose to mean?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing." He waved it off and then smirked into the wand-light. "Just that someone who had started as a Knight in the most honourable institution of all could sink into the most demeaning position in existence. How can you _live_ with yourself? What would Raven Lord _think_? Seeing one of his trusted knights licking the boots of the very man he had opposed to with every breath in his body?" He clucked his tongue sadly. "Pity. Truly a sorry affair, I must say."

"Do not mention his name!" Randolf said angrily. Godric thought he had detected fear in the older man's voice. He felt the need to smirk again. Randolf _had_ been somewhat ashamed of his chosen path of career after the disbanding of the Order.

Godric did not entirely mock the man. He _did_ actually pity him. The Order of the Knights of the Phoenix had a few hundred knights at the time of its disbanding. Not all of them supported the decision to refuse the Council's will. Not all of them were strong enough to oppose Ambrosius. Those who did not oppose, found themselves becoming Guards of the Chamber – or, in worse cases, Servants. Randolf had been one of the luckier ones.

He still taunted the poor man, though. His patience was wearing thin. "Afraid of Raven Lord still, Randolf? He has been exiled such a long time ago. Do you still believe that he will come back and take vengeance upon all of you who disobeyed his last orders? Well, let me tell you something," He lowered his voice so much that Randolf had to come closer in order to hear him. "Raven Lord is not coming back. But _I_ am. And _my_ vengeance is just as bad. Do not tempt me. I might just hex you into hell."

"Who are you?!" Randolf demanded yet again, his voice growing panicky.

"I _told_ you not to tempt me. I am Godric Gryffindor – and my vengeance is my father's vengeance. _Wingardium Leviosa!_" While keeping the man busy trying catching his words, Godric had removed his wand from the inside of his cloak. He had it pointed at the poor guard, and levitated him high up in the air.

"Go on, Salazar. Take the ladies inside. I still have a few things to pick with my dear friend Randolf."

Salazar shrugged. "Have fun – but hurry up. It's getting late and the meeting will not last forever. Come on, ladies. Let us get you out of this weather."

Godric heard them walking – or rather, squelching – away. He then turned to look up at Randolf, who was dangling quite a few feet up in the air. "Having fun, friend?"

"Put me down this instant!"

"Are you sure?" He asked innocently.

"Yes!"

"Very well, then. _Finite Incantatem_."

"Nooo!"

But it was too late. Sir Randolf of the Chamber Guard plummeted straight down and hit the ground with great thud. Walking like a man in a park, Godric strolled over to the still form of the man. He bent down and, after lighting his wand, surveyed the damage.

"You are lucky that the ground is mostly mud, friend. You will be all right. You might have a bloody great headache when you wake up, though..."

After he had made sure the man would not die, Godric quickly followed his companions, catching up with them a few minutes later.

"Do I want to know what happened back there?" Salazar asked archly. "We heard the scream."

"Did you kill him?" Rowena asked straightforwardly.

"No! I will never kill a man just like that!" Godric said indignantly. He did not realize she thought that low of him. "I merely dropped him from a few feet up. He got a bump on the head and will not bother us for quite a few hours-"

"-and he might have a few holes in his memory." Salazar said, smirking.

"Well, that too. But he will mostly be fine. Why are you moving so slowly? Let's hurry up and get into the Chamber."

They reached the center of Stonehenge, where a huge stone was lying. Salazar took out his wand and tapped the stone three times. It slid silently aside, revealing a dark, narrow staircase.

"Ladies first." He said politely, and Godric rolled his eyes in response.

Rowena waited not a moment longer. She hurried down the steps, leaving a trail of mud on the white marble. Helga came after her, keeping as close as she could. Salazar motioned for Godric to go after her.

"I'll lock." He said.

Godric entered the gateway to the Council Chamber. He saw Rowena's small wand-light just ahead of him and felt Salazar descend behind him. They caught up with the women.

"This is the way to the Council?" Rowena asked. Godric could almost hear her brow furrow. "Isn't it a bit... dark?"

"This is the Servant Entrance." Salazar explained. "Servants are not allowed to come through the main entrance. The main one is further down through a magic portal. This one leads to the Servants' Chamber. The only good thing about this arrangement is that we can get to the Council Chamber almost undetected. The less people know we are here – the better."

"What are the chances that there will be people in the Servants' Chamber?" She continued.

"At this time of night? A lot. Many sleep here during the night. Godric and I try to avoid it as often as we can. It is one miserable place. Ignore any men suggesting... things to you. Most Servants are very bitter and do not care much about what the rest of the world may think of them. They are crude, rude-"

"Like Lord Gryffindor, you mean?"

Godric wanted to retort to that insult, but Salazar clamped his hand over his mouth. "Please don't do that, Rowena. It is hard enough to control his temper as it is. Keep your comments to yourself.

"As I was saying, they are crude, rude, blunt and willful. Those who had been bound before marrying are usually not married and therefore lack the ability to control themselves around women. Ignore them. If they will try anything I want you two to stay out of it. Let Godric and I take care of it for you. Understood?"

She nodded reluctantly. Salazar removed his hand from Godric's mouth and hissed in his ear "Behave yourself, Godric! She is but a girl – and you are a grown man!"

After a few minutes walk, they reached a large oak door at the bottom of the staircase. It was not locked. It never was.

Salazar moved ahead of Rowena and entered the Servants' Chamber, motioning the others to join him.

The moment Godric crossed the threshold, he heard the sound of loud singing. Men were shouting, laughing, drinking, and in short, drowning their sorrow in the pettiest of ways. He never did that. He was from a proud house, and not even a demeaning occurrence such as becoming a Servant could quench his pride. He preferred keeping his dignity and not lower himself even further.

"Look, boys!" A sudden voice called above the din. "Look who came crawling back! The lordlings are here – and they've got a pair of birds with them! I'm calling first go on that little one!" How they recognized the four lumps of mud as Godric, Salazar and two foreign women, was beyond him.

"Oh, no you don't, Marius! I am!"

"You keep your bloody pecker away from her! She is mine!"

"We can both take her at the same time!"

"You can keep her – she's too little for me anyway. I'm taking the taller gal!"

Godric barely heard Salazar's voice repeating "Ignore them, ignore them, ignore them..." To Rowena. He could see, however, that it had little affect on the young woman. She was close to burst. He could feel the bunching of her will.

The Servants surrounded them from every direction, closing in on them. Their destination – the great doors leading to the Council Chamber – seemed farther than ever.

"Godric!" Salazar called. "We have to do something!"

At the same time, one of the men – a man Godric recognized as Sebastian Miller – darted forward and tried to grab Helga and pull her away from them.

Godric lifted his wand, but before he had a chance to utter a word, Salazar screamed "Rowena, no!"

Sebastian was thrown back with great force and crashed against a huddle of jeering men. In the center of the room, a wide berth around her, stood Rowena Ravenclaw, holding her wand tightly. She was covered with slime and muck, her hair all over the place, her dress torn. But that did not matter. She radiated power. An awful expression was on her face.

"Let us go." Salazar said after a moment of shocked silence. "We need to have word with Ambrosius, remember?"

"Come on, Rowena." Godric said gently and nudged the frozen woman in the direction of Salazar.

Salazar, who had a firm hold around Helga, shielding her from any more attempts led them to the massive doors. He pushed them open with a flick of his wand and they passed through to the Council Chamber.

The Council Chamber was a great construction of black and white marble. If one was not a Servant, one had to go through a smaller entrance chamber and wait for one's turn to come in and speak with the Council. In the past few years almost none of those applicants were allowed inside.

The members of the Council sat in a semicircle made of three stairs. The lowest stair had ten members. That was the Lower House. Its members had little consequence in the decisions of the Council. The second stair was the Second House. It had eight members. On the highest stair sat the six members of the First House, amongst them the two lords who had taken the places of Searlas Slytherin and Gawain Gryffindor.

All twenty four members stared in indignant shock at the four intruders. Lord Llyr, a member of the Lower House and an old rival of Godric's father, who was in the process of saying something, stopped abruptly.

"What is the meaning of this?" Demanded Ambrosius, who was sitting in the center of the First House stair. "Who are you? I demand that you leave at once."

"Is that all the gratitude we get for doing what you commanded us to do?" Godric asked sourly, not bothering to hide his contempt for the Chief Warlock.

Ambrosius was a large man. He was tall and had wide shoulders. His hair – though grey now with old age – was still full and flowing. He towered over Godric easily and was far more impressive than him. He had _presence_. His voice even had its own presence, lingering and echoing even in the open air.

"What?" Ambrosius roared.

Salazar gave Godric a pointed look which told him plainly to keep his mouth shut, and then said "I apologize for Godric's behaviour, my lord. We had a long journey and the other Servants were very crude to our _gentle_ companions." Godric realized that the emphasis on the word was more for Rowena than for anyone else. "We have done as you have commanded, but would appreciate it if we could get cleaned up and dressed properly before we speak any further."

"My Servant Slytherin!" Ambrosius cried in sudden gleeful apprehension. "You have come back after all! We had all thought you and Servant Gryffindor were long dead!"

In his mind, Godric exchanged the _thought_ with _hoped_. Ambrosius was not a very discreet man. He stifled a sound of disgust.

Of course you may go and clean yourselves. Make free use of my own apartments! Edwin! Lead these men and ladies to my apartments – make sure they have all they wish for!"

A wiry manservant they had not noticed before came and motioned them to follow him. It was weird, but Rowena's head swiveled to glance at Godric questioningly. It was so unlike her, that he was taken slightly aback, but nodded all the same. They had better do as Ambrosius commanded for the time being.

Edwin led them out of a small side-door and through a long corridor. At the end of the corridor was an elaborately carved door that he opened and then closed when they were all inside.

Godric did not have time to appreciate the grand sitting room into which they had entered, before he was non-too-gently pushed through another doorway together with Salazar. The women were pushed into an opposing one.

In the new room was a huge bath that was filling itself at that very moment with scented water. Towels appeared instantly, as well as clean clothes, neatly folded.

"Servants' clothes." He spat. "He made sure of that – the bastard."

Salazar sighed. "Nothing we can do. All our better clothes are with the horses a long way away. I really don't fancy wearing these filthy clothes any more."

Silently, ignoring Salazar's calming words, Godric undressed and lowered himself into the bath. It seemed as though the water changed constantly, for it did not matter how much mud and sweat both men had removed from their bodies. The water remained clean.

Once the last fleck of dirt was removed from his body and hair, Godric got out, dried himself and reluctantly pulled on the simple, coarse, creamy white robe of a Servant of the Council. Salazar, who was already dressed, gave him a sympathetic glance and motioned for him to get out of the bathroom and into the sitting room.

They lounged on the low, velvet covered divans for a while, waiting for the women to come out. Godric was very tired. He could feel his muscles crying out for rest, but he knew that this languid state of body and mind will not last for long. Nevertheless, his eyelids drooped and sleep demanded entry.

He was right on the verge of falling asleep when the door opposite opened and Rowena and Helga entered with a soft rustle of skirts.

Rudely shaken out of his stupour, Godric stared at the two blearily. Ambrosius had made sure that their clothes were not of the best quality either. It was his way to tell them that they were his subordinates and that no matter who they were in their past lives, they were now his to command.

_Arrogant bastard_. He thought to himself, as his mind cleared.

"The Master commands that you shall join him in the Council Chamber." The man called Edwin said in his nasal voice.

"Ambrosius can command to his heart's content," One of them said forcibly. "We will not come until we are ready, and I still have to do Helga's hair."

Godric stared in wonder at Rowena, as she stood, glaring at the towering manservant. She saw his expression and to his amounting surprise – winked. To the manservant, however, she said with the same haughty voice as before "You will leave us now and tell _your_ master that he can shove his commands up his rear end. He will wait for _our_ leasure. Go!"

With a terrified squeak, Edwin ran out of the room. Rowena turned to face the other three with a kind of a twisted smile on her face.

"You're _evil_." Helga said only half-jokingly.

"I know." She said with a shrug. "That was the only way I could make him go away and leave us to have a private word for a little while. He's really annoying me, this Ambrosius, and I haven't even been properly introduced to him! Is he always like this?"

"Roughly, yes." Salazar said grimly. "Most times it's much worse. He has no notion of other people's rights – only of what he needs _when_ he needs it. You are not starting this very nicely, you know. You will have his enmity in no time like this."

She laughed. "Oh, I know that, Salazar. But honestly, I do not mind that. I have my pride, and I will keep it intact as long as I can. Bullying Ambrosius' men is the best I can do right now."

"So," Godric said, still feeling a little miffed about the Servant's clothes and Ambrosius' behaviour towards them (_But then again,_ he thought, _what's new?_), "Are we all ready to face the big bad wizard?"

Helga shook her head. "Not really. I'd rather have a good sleep before I do... but we need to do it now, I suppose. I don't want to anger this Ambrosius fellow even more."

"Oh, he is already madder than ever, I can assure you that." Godric said with an evil smile. "Our darling Rowena had made sure of _that_." After he let that out, he could not tell which glare was worse – the one Rowena sent his way for calling her 'darling', or Helga's – sent in Rowena's direction.

"Well," Salazar said dryly, "Now that we are all happy with each other and with Ambrosius, I believe it is a waste of time to stay her a minute longer. Come on, then. Let us go and face our doom."

With that, the four young people made their way out of the sitting room and into the long corridor leading to the Council Chamber.

Godric, feeling willful, heaved the small door with all the strength he could muster. It hit the wall with a resounding crash, startling all Council members out of their discussion.

"We are here!" He announced in a booming voice, enjoying the slight wincing of some of the men sitting in the semicircle.

"Yes," Ambrosius said silkily. "You are here. Stand by that wall, Servants Slytherin and Gryffindor. I believe my business here is with Madam Ravenclaw – would you be so kind as to step out of that hulking buffoon's shadow, my darling Rosalind? I could not see the beauty of your face when you were covered with all that filth not long ago."

Rowena did not move from her spot behind Godric. Neither did Godric and Salazar move as he had commanded, but Godric felt the discomfort of not obeying the Chief Warlock most keenly. It felt like a thousand needles pricking his flesh – pinpricks of pain. Still he stood. Next to him he could sense Salazar moving in the same discomfort. Ambrosius knew very well that they will not yield to his command easily. At that moment, however, his attention was all on Rowena's shadowy figure.

"Come now, my dear!" He coaxed, his voice dripping with honey. "Come out into the light so that I may behold the gloriousness of your features once again!"

"You had better go," Salazar whispered from the corner of his mouth. "He will not wait much longer before he will resort to violent means."

Rowena nodded curtly, just once, and walked as slowly as she dared towards the well-lit center of the Chamber. She kept her face down until she was right in front of Ambrosius. Then she looked up.

"You are not Rosalind!" Ambrosius screeched. "Who are you? How _dare_ you mock my orders, Slytherin! How _dare_ you disobey me, Gryffindor! You will both pay dearly for this! But first I will take care of this woman – pretending to be my lovely Rosalind!"

Later on, Godric would say that it was that claim of Ambrosius' over her mother that made Rowena do what she had done.

Godric recognized the signs long before anyone else. Merlin knows, he had that expression directed at him enough times to know when it was time to clamp his palms over his ears and search for shelter. At that particular time, however, he decided he was going to enjoy it.

Rowena's eyes narrowed dangerously – it was obvious even from the shadowy corner next to the door where her three companions stood.

"Do not presume to own my mother, filth!" She grounded out with vehemence. "She belongs to none but herself. And if anyone had ever owned her – it is my father – not you! You have no idea who I am, do you? You do not know whose daughter am I? Do you not recognize me by my hair and by the way I carry myself? Do you not see that I am the embodiment of both your infatuation _and_ your most bitter of enemies?"

Ambrosius, who had rarely found himself in a situation where he had to defend himself, stared at her in wonder mixed with apprehension. "Who... are you?" He asked faintly, though by the slight tremble in his voiced, Godric realized that he had a rather good idea of that.

"Now you ask," Rowena spat. "I am Rowena Ravenclaw. Daughter of Rosalind and Ryan Raven Lord. And _you_ are nothing but a lowlife scum that should have been eradicated off this earth a long time ago."

As she stood there, conveying defiance with every fiber of her body, Godric could not help it but feel great admiration for her.

"So." Ambrosius hissed. "That spawn of the devil has procreated. Tell me, child. Where is your father now? Has he broken his exile? He will die for that."

Rowena met his scorning, triumphant gaze with coldness to match. "I fear that the only way you can condemn my father to death is to come to the Valley of two years ago and save him before the Muggles caught him."

At that, an excited murmur broke the silence of the rest of the Council members. The main sentence passing between them was _Raven Lord is dead!_

Ambrosius smiled horribly at that, but Rowena was not quite finished. "For that, offspring of a whore that you are, you have my mother's eternal enmity. She bid me tell you that the next time your roads meet – you will die. She bid me tell you that your days are numbered – as are the days of this Council. You have sunken so far into the abyss that you may not turn back. The magic community will soon turn its back on you just as you have done to it. There is no going back – you have doomed your own lives."

Godric was pretty certain that Rosalind said nothing of the sort. It sounded too much like Rowena to be anything of Rosalind's saying.

Ambrosius, however, seemed to take the young woman's words as said. He paled considerably and Godric got the feeling that even at that time, after years of anger and separation, the almighty Head of the Council still harboured some hope that Rosalind would come back to him. It all came crumbling down on him. Heavier and heavier down as Rowena progressed with her speech of scorn.

"You will die for this insolence." He whispered, barely heard by anyone. "Servant Gryffindor – take her life!"

Godric prepared himself for the surge of command, but it was not enough. Ambrosius' anger multiplied the force of his will. It came on him like a wave, drowning his own will. He felt himself taking the first step towards Rowena's proud form. His hand slid down to grasp the hilt of his sword.

"Godric, no!" Came Helga's desperate cry. "You can't really do that! She is your friend!"

He tried to fight, truly he did, but more members of the Council joined their wills with that of Ambrosius. Quite a few of them despised Raven Lord while still alive. They wanted to wipe his lineage entirely by killing his only daughter.

Through the wooliness in which his mind had sunk, he could hear Helga shrieking "Salazar – stop him! He will kill her!"

And then Ambrosius' voice laced with the command for a Servant, saying "Restrain her, Slytherin!"

Godric tried to concentrate. He had to put a stop to it. Rowena would not run – he knew that. She stood there, calm and silent, looking straight at him with those huge hazel eyes of hers. Those eyes which bore right into his soul...

"Arrgh!" A cry of pain came from behind him. There was the sound of running feet on a stone floor and someone slammed bodily into him. He recognized the small hands attempting to pull him back as Helga's. She was trying to stop him from getting to her friend.

The part of his mind still able to think rationally through the drilling command of the Council wondered if Salazar managed to break The Council's will and released the girl, but the memory of the cry of pain, made him rethink it. He managed to sneak a look in Helga's direction, even though it cost him with great pains – the command was to look at Rowena alone.

Around Helga's mouth was a shiny stain of blood. His rational part smiled. _Good girl. Very resourceful._ And at the same time he thought _What am I doing? If Helga can do it..._

He redoubled his efforts, groaning with the pain, falling to his knees and yet, still trying to get to Rowena.

He drew his sword out of its sheath – he was almost there.

_No!_ He silently cried. _I will not!_

You must.

_I will not!_

I have commanded you to do so. You will do as I say.

_Never! She is my friend! You will not make me take her life!_

He felt more than heard Ambrosius commanding all the members of the Council to concentrate on forcing him to kill Rowena. He had to stop them. He was so near – just a few more steps and she was doomed.

_Run! Move, Rowena! You are my friend! I do not want to hurt you!_

She was never your friend. I have commanded you to become her friend in order to bring her here to face me. Kill her.

_No. _And then added, _remember the sword, Godric. Remember the sword. You swore never to take the life of an innocent – a Knight of the Phoenix oath. It is much stronger than the oath forcibly taken from you. Hold on. Hold on..._

With a cry of anger Godric regained his senses. He was not going to break the oath that had been so important to his own father. He was not going to take an innocent girl's life just because some selfish, arrogant bastard had commanded him. "You cannot make me!" He growled. "I will never do as you say again!"

There was silence in the Chamber. At first he did not realize why. Only when Salazar who seemed to be in some internal struggle woke up in a weird daze, did he realize what had just happened.

He had thrown off the will of all twenty four members of the Council. The Oath of the Servant had been broken. He was free.

**A/N:** That's it for now!!! What did you think? Please share it with me!

**To all those who reviewed:**

**Miss Anonymous hp: **Thanks! Hmm... I suppose you're right – it's a much more Ravenclaw-ish saying, but I needed to show that they didn't really get along, and it was Rowena, after all, who opposed him. But as I told you before – I'm glad to have your comments – they're constructive, so I can do things with them... :D

**Chenelle:** Thank you very much! I know I said I'd update before, but computers are eeeeeevil.

One of my greatest ambitions is to be an author – but first I have to get my grammar right, methinks ;)

Well, truth be told, little is actually based on canon. Just the places they came from, some of their characteristics, the title of Chief Warlock (I sort of figured that the title Dumbledore has is some sort of remnant from old traditions, so I took it), the idea for the name of the Order of the Knights of the Phoenix... Err... I suppose that later on there will be places that will be based on the books (like Hogwarts itself and Hogsmeade), but mostly the background, the plot, the overall story and the bits from _Hogwarts, A History_ are from my own imagination. I'm glad you like it :D

**Eratosthenese:** Thank you! Heh, I've been told before that they remind people of Lily and James, but in truth I didn't realize it _until_ someone pointed it out to me.

**Shadow-n-the-dark:** Rowena thinks of Ambrosius roughly what _I_ think of him :) And I don't think well of him one bit... Thanks for your review!

**JakKat:** Thank you very much! Good to see you have established an account. Tell me when you put up your stories! As for Helga and Salazar – my lips are sealed ((seals lips))

**Teenrogue:** A new reviewer! Welcome aboard! I'm glad you enjoy my story so far!

**Freespirit65:** Hello! Why aren't you updating your stories? ((pouts)) Evil homework? Thanks for your review!

**And that is it for today, my friends! Hope to see you again soon! I will try and update again as quickly as possible, now that I have my computer back!**

**- Star of the North**


	9. Unknown Future

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N: **This chapter is dedicated to **Chenelle**, who celebrates her birthday today (or if you have a different time zone than I have, then it might already be yesterday).

I hope you enjoy this!

p.s. Don't be confused. This chapter does _not_ start at the same point the previous one had left. Still, do not worry – you will know all that had happened in between before you finish reading this chapter.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 8 – Unknown Future**

_"The community was very important to the witches and wizards of the time. The community protected its own even when the Council failed to do so._

_"We are speaking, of course, of the small country communities and not of the magic community as a whole. In this chapter, when we will discuss _that_ community, we shall refer to it as the Wizarding World._

_"The average community was small and very traditional. Men were considered more important than women, and certainly more powerful. Powerful women were regarded with suspicion and were often estranged from the rest of the community, for they posed a threat to the male leaders._

_"A community usually consisted of a few families living in close vicinity to each other. The leader of each community came from either the oldest or strongest family._

_"The community supported its members and made sure they were all in good health, that they were able to pay their taxes and did not do anything to anger neighbouring Muggles._

_"To be an exile meant to be considered dead by all those who were once one's family or friends. It meant to be completely estranged from the community. There was no one who would protect them. They were always on their own, for none would risk their own lives for that of an exile. Exiles often died in the hands of Muggles..."_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

It rained. It always rained. Rowena was tired of all the rain. She had not been dry for three – no, four – months. It seemed that ever since that sorry episode in the Council Chamber they had been on the road, never stopping in one place for longer than was necessary.

They were outcasts. Exiles. Ambrosius had decreed so.

Rowena glared at her ale as though it held the likeness of the Chief Warlock in its dark brown depths.

In the space of two days, their portraits or descriptions were to be found in each and every single wizarding home in the British Isles. The entire community was commanded not to harbour them on pain of death. If anyone were discovered sheltering them, the Council would make sure that the head of the house would be killed and his wife and children made Servants or exiles themselves.

They had been chased out of many a settlement, often stoned or hexed. Helga's arm had been broken by a large stone, and only Salazar's meager knowledge of Healing could save it. Salazar himself had limped for over a month after a particularly successful tripping hex had hit him. Godric still had a thin cute above his left eyebrow. It tended to open up every few days and drip blood into his eye. Rowena still felt the occasional need to get rid of the contents of her stomach.

The kept to Muggle settlements now. Muggles were superstitious and cruel, but as long as they kept their true identities to themselves, the companions could go among them safely enough. Salazar had bitterly told them that even the Muggles' worst verdict for a witch or a wizard was merciful in comparison to that of the Council.

"At least with Muggles death comes relatively swiftly." He had said, right after they had been chased out of yet another wizarding hold. "This death comes out of frustration, loneliness and the deprivation of magic altogether. I'd take the stake any day."

He had been shushed by Godric, who did not like that kind of talk, and by Helga, who had been afraid of Rowena' reaction.

As for Rowena, she had merely stared moodily into the distance and after a while had softly said "Do you really, Salazar? Then it must be a sad thing to be you – so dependant on other people and so unable to live without magic. You should try it sometime. Maybe it will keep you in perspective."

Salazar had gaped at her for a long while before Godric had punched him in the arm and hissed something in his ear, presumably reprimanding him.

Godric's behaviour had changed drastically since he was freed of the Council.

Before, while naturally cheerful and optimistic, he was still prone to periodic moodiness and at times, when in a particularly bad mood snapped and resorted to unpleasant sarcasm. He had also intently disliked Rowena for some reason. Then again, she had not liked him either, so it evened out. They just did not get along with each other to begin with.

For all those months of the past winter they had bickered to no end, always at each other's throat. During the long ride to Stonehenge their disagreements intensified. Rowena vowed to never tell even Helga what had passed between them in those long, forced hours spent together on horseback.

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_"Never in my life had I met someone who is so inconsiderable of other people's ideals and feelings!" She snapped at him. His close presence for all those hours for the past three days had gritted on her nerves. The fact that his arms were in such close proximity to either side of her body, and that his body was so tight to hers, made her feel uncomfortable. She had never been this close to a man who had not been her father, and she disliked Godric Gryffindor greatly. She wished Salazar would never have noticed the minor problem concerning the sizes of the horses, and constantly lamented for not sitting before Salazar in Helga's stead. The older man was quiet, polite, and always acted like a gentleman towards both women._

_"Then clearly you have not met yourself." He hissed. "For whatever I lack at these departments, you lack tenfold! You have no consideration whatsoever for your fellow men! Why is everything about _you

_"About _me_? What of all this was about _meYou_ were the ones to come into our peaceful life, banging and shouting. _You_ were the ones to burst in on us and demand obedience from us. You have no right to blame me. You have no right!"_

_"You-!" He started and then, glancing at Helga and Salazar who were riding not too far away, deep in conversation, lowered his voice. "You are an obnoxious girl who had never learned how to control her impulses. You have been indulged irresponsibly by a doting mother and a bitter father. You, my lady, are a spoilt brat."_

_Rowena's grip on the saddle tightened. Her knuckles were white against the dark, inlaid leather. She had never felt so angry. She wanted to hurt Godric just as much as he had hurt her, with his slander against her parents._

_"You are discourteous, Lord Gryffindor." She said coldly. "Your manner us crude and you have no qualms insulting people you disagree with-"_

_"You mean yourself?" He cut her off scornfully. "I do not disagree with you. I never have. It is the simple matter of you keeping a grudge for five years. No one can get along with you because of your habit of forming an opinion at first sight, before you even get to know a person! You have almost no friends in this world!"_

_"What do _you_ know about people whom I don't get along with? You don't even know me!" She snapped angrily, trying to quench the tremour of sickness she felt at his accurate description of her habits. _

_"I may not know you for long, but I – unlike you – can read between the lines! I've heard the way people in Culhwch speak of you. They did not like you even before the knew you were a witch! You were always arrogant and you looked down upon them like they were earth worms! You are an unpleasant girl! You have no limits! In time, when you will want to find a husband no one will have you. Your looks are nice enough, but your character is ghastly! I would not spend more time with you than absolutely necessary and required by the assignment. You disgust me."_

_Rowena could say nothing to that. Godric's words were sharp and hurt her deeply. She felt something well up in her. She turned her face straight ahead and refused to speak to Godric for the next few days._

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Rowena blinked back tears. Even remembering those harsh words hurt. He had been so hateful and resentful.

After releasing himself from the grip of the Council's combined wills, however, Godric's whole demeanor had changed.

Gone were the moody silences and snappish manner. Gone was the subdued expression. This was Godric Gryffindor as he should have been: A carefree, cheerful man who looked the world straight in the eye and laughed at all its hardships.

Another profound change was his sudden politeness towards her. He was always friendly to Helga. It was impossible not to like the sunny girl – it was almost a crime not to. But something had changed in him in those long terrifying minutes when Ambrosius, backed with all the force of the Council, had commanded him to kill Rowena. When she had stood there, heart thumping with fear, she had looked straight into his eyes where the internal struggle was evident the most and had seen that he did not want to kill her.

She was his friend.

He never told them what it was that finally helped him throw off the will of twenty four people. He seemed to want to forget.

Covertly, pretending to study a rough painting behind him, she looked at Godric. He was steadily finishing his third tankard of ale. She realized that this was one of _those_ days.

Godric had two modes in life, she had learned: Stone sober, or completely drunk. There was no in-between. He seemed incapable of being tipsy. Salazar said it was because he was a rotten drinker, getting drunk after three and a half tankards of ale, or two goblets and three quarters of wine.

The days when he drank were those he was so frustrated with their current situation that he felt he had to be unconscious to them and to the world for a while.

Rowena elbowed Salazar. "Take that tankard from him. It's his third one tonight. We need to get him to bed before he starts snoring right here. It took the three of us an eternity to get him upstairs last time."

Salazar nodded and gently detached his friend from his ale. "That's it for tonight, Godric. Let's go up and put you in bed."

"But I haven't started on my fourth one." Godric protested.

"Precisely. Come on. We will see you tomorrow morning, ladies. I told the innkeeper we will be leaving before noon. He started looking edgy with us occupying his best rooms for a week. Good night."

They bid the men goodnight. Rowena drained her own tankard and Helga put down her only half-finished glass of cider. She had taken a liking to the drink after leaving Stonehenge.

"It feels hopeless, Raven." Helga said softly so that the Muggles surrounding them would not hear.

They were sitting on crude benches near a dying fire in a Muggle inn's dinning hall. They had been staying there for the past week, clueless as to where go next. Rowena had felt she had seen most of England and quite a bit of Wales in the past months.

They could never stay in the same place for more than a few days because Ambrosius had sent dozens of the Chamber Guard after them, supposedly so he could execute them publicly. It was a mind-chilling thought.

They could do nothing.

"We can't even go home." Helga said sadly. "Not when the entire valley knows we are magic. I'm still surprised no one had noticed us when we had left back in the spring. Have you even written to your mother lately?"

Rowena cringed at the accusing tone. Helga knew very well that she had not written in months. She could not bring herself to tell her mother that she had been pronounced an outlaw in the Wizarding World. "Not really." She finally admitted, not meeting Helga's eyes. "I don't want her to worry."

"You don't want her to _worry_? If you didn't want that, you _would_ have written. She's probably worried _sick_ because she didn't hear from you in months!"

"I can't lie to her!" Rowena snapped. "If I write to her, I'll have to tell her _everything_. And she will be afraid for us and may come out of the Glen at the risk of her own life. I don't want this to happen, so forget it!" She got up and ran away from Helga up to their room.

From across the hall she could hear Salazar's voice giving instructions to a drunken Godric. She repressed a chuckle of dry amusement and entered her room, closing the door as quietly as she could.

Not wanting Helga to start berating her as soon as she would reach the room, Rowena slipped out of her gown, undid the clasp that held her hair in place and slid between the sheets, closing her eyes.

Soon enough she heard the door open and close, and Helga's soft footsteps moving across the room as she lit a candle, changed into her nightgown, brushed her hair and folded all their clothes neatly. The footsteps stopped, and Rowena strained to hear even a rustle of cloth.

"I know you're awake. Raven." Helga's soft whisper in her ear almost made her jump out of her skin. "You can't hide things from me. It's not Rosalind's worry that frightens you. It's her disapproval. You are acting like a little girl. Grow up." She then went to her side of the bed, snuffed out her candle and soon her even breathing indicated she was deeply asleep.

The moonlight shone through a crack in the shutters and reflected on a pair of unblinking eyes.

Rowena remained awake for a long time.

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_"Servant Gryffindor – take her life!" Ambrosius' voice echoes in her head. Her mind tries to process the meaning of the words, but nothing comes up. Can he truly mean...?_

_Why would Godric obey to this deranged man?_

_She turns to face her companion. Her eyes widen as she realizes he _is_ going to obey. She can see a desperate gleam in his eyes as he heavily takes a step in her direction and slides his hand down to his sword._

_He is going to kill her._

_"Godric, no! You can't really do that! She is your friend!" Helga cries from behind him. When he does not comply, still walking in that slow, agonizing pace, his eyes madly moving in his face, the small girl takes hold of Salazar's arm and shrieks, echoing Rowena's own thoughts "Salazar – stop him! He will kill her!"_

_Salazar starts moving in Godric's direction, but Ambrosius sees it and commands him to restrain Helga. She sees how he holds Helga with an iron grip, yes his eyes are desperately willing Rowena to run – save herself._

_She would not run. She would not give Ambrosius the pleasure of seeing her pleading for mercy. _

_She stands her ground. She looks straight into Godric's eyes, trying to give him some of her own conviction and belief that he would not do the deed._

_A movement catches her eye. Helga sinks her teeth into Salazar's arm and bites down hard. There is blood on her face when Salazar releases her with a cry of pain. She then runs to Godric, before anyone can stop her and slams into him with all the power in her small body and then attempts to pull him away._

_Nothing helps. Godric continues his slow approach. However, Rowena can see that his approach becomes slower still. He is fighting, even though all members of the Council are commanding him to take her life. _

_He falls to his knees, yet he continues approaching her. His body shakes. He is fighting a formless enemy._

_Something happens._

_With a cry of rage Godric gets up and stares vehemently at a shocked Ambrosius. "You cannot make me!" He cries out. "I will never do as you say again!"_

_The Chamber is silent. Not even a whisper is heard._

_She can see Salazar wakes up from his sleep-like trance. He stares at Godric in wonder, and a slow smile tugs at this lips._

_"You are free." He says._

_"Kill him, Slytherin!" Ambrosius suddenly shrieks, his face panicked. "Kill the traitor!"_

_She sees how Salazar returns to his trance, starting to draw his wand. His hand stops._

_"No." He says softly. "You have no power over me anymore, Ambrosius. I am my own man. Godric's refusal has weakened you. You can no longer force me, either. We stand together. We will always will."_

_Ambrosius gapes at Salazar as the other man simply shrugs off the dregs of the Council's wills. He walks over to where Godric and Helga stand and joins them. Rowena known it is time to leave._

_"Remember us, usurper and murderer." She says coldly and loudly. "Remember us who had rendered your pathetic Council powerless. We are going now, but when we come back – we will destroy you. There will be nothing left of Ambrosius of York but a bloated reputation that will burst like a rotten fruit. Farewell – for the time being."_

_She then walks over to her companions – nay, friends – and whispers "We had better go before they realize that they have no trouble stopping us."_

_They leave – right through the front doors of the Council Chamber. No longer would lords Slytherin and Gryffindor have to enter Stonehenge through the Servants' door. They are free men, and will forever remain so._

_The moment they are out of Stonehenge, they hear the sounds of pursuit. They knew it would not be as easy as that. _

_They run. Behind them hexes and curses are thrown. Arrows are shot._

_She turns around, trying to erect a shield around them._

_An arrow comes straight at her – there is no time to run-_

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Rowena opened her eyes. It was still dark and she was sweating profusely. She could almost feel that arrow graze her side again. She remembered clearly how Godric had thrown himself over her, sheltering her from other arrows and allowing her at the same time to shoot her own curses at their pursuers. She remembered how they had barely reached their horses, how they had escaped almost at the last moment. Four fugitives in the night.

She shuddered and attempted to go back to sleep. After a while she gave up and got out of bed, got dressed and brushed her night-tangled hair. It grew long again, she noticed. Perhaps it was time to cut it again.

She spent the few hours till daybreak reading _The Legacy of the Phoenix_ by candlelight.

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"We can't go on like this." Godric said in the morning when they were already on their horses and on the road. He was his energetic self again. There was no trace of drunkenness in him.

"What, you mean traveling around doing nothing?" Rowena asked with a roll of her eyes, twisting in the saddle to face him. "We already _know_ that, my dear Godric. Have you nothing new for us?"

He rolled his own eyes in reply. "Then maybe it's time to stop speculating and actually do something about it."

"We obviously can't go to anywhere magic," Helga said in a subdued tone. "And if we go anywhere Muggle – we can't be ourselves. Admit it, Godric. We are stuck right in the middle. Exiles of both worlds." Rowena wanted to say something to make her feel better, but the memory of the previous night was too fresh in her mind. She did not want to speak to Helga right now – not if it was not absolutely necessary.

"Not precisely." Salazar said unexpectedly. "There is always Dahlia. Why did we overlook her, Godric? I am certain she will happily give us shelter."

"Why indeed?" Godric said, his deep voice causing a vibration to pass through Rowena's spine. She jerked upright, trying to have as little of her body touching Godric's.

"Who is Dahlia?" She asked to cover her jerking movement.

"My sister." Salazar replied. "She lives with her husband in the Loch. I have not seen her in years, but I'm sure she will have no problem having us for a little while."

"Where is this Loch?" Helga asked.

"Up in Scotland. It's a large wizarding village – a few dozens of families. Godric's mother lives there as well."

"A whole wizarding village?" Rowena enquired in dread, not liking the sound of it. "Isn't it much likelier for us to get caught if we go there?"

Godric shook his head. "Not if we are careful not to show our faces in daytime. We'll go into the village after nightfall and while we stay there we will keep to the inside rooms. Are you sure Bran wouldn't oppose to this, Salazar?"

"There is only one way we can find out."

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The way up north to the Loch was long and tedious. The summer droned on, yet the rain did not seem to want to stop. It was rather bleak up in the southern end of Scotland.

The companions were weary of all their travels and wished for nothing more than a warm meal and a dry bed.

Mud was a constant companion to them. Godric's and Salazar's fine garments were no longer so fine. They were mud-splattered and wet. Rowena and Helga looked no better.

One evening, when the rain had surprisingly ceased, Salazar let out a relieved sigh. "We are here." He said contently.

Rowena strained her eyes in the fading light and gazed at their destination.

The village was rather large. A few dozen houses – just like Salazar had said - and each house had a well-kept garden surrounding it. The roads were paved and the lights in the windows shone brightly like jewels in the growing dark.

Out in the distance there she could glimpse the last twinkling rays of sun shining on a large body of water.

"Welcome to the Loch." Godric said.

They waited till night had fallen. Helga had fallen asleep at some point, and Rowena was close to it herself when they had finally led their horses down to the village.

Salazar led them around the perimeter of the village, avoiding the lights from the houses as best he could. After a while, he stopped near a small clump of trees.

"That is the house." He indicated an already darkened house. "I see they have already gone to bed. I hope we will not startle them too much."

They tethered Griffith and Cian just outside the village, inside the cluster of trees. Then they walked in silence to the house.

Salazar raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door.

There was a sharp crashing sound from within the house, followed by hurried footsteps.

From inside, someone unlatched the door carefully.

"Ah, good-" Salazar began with a smile before a wand was shoved right into his face.

"Take another step, ruffian," A deep voice boomed angrily "And I will make sure there will be nothing left of you for the lawmen to hang."

**A/N:** Well? What did you think? You know what I would like you to do! Tell me all you have to say!

**And to those who reviewed:**

**Shadow-n-the-dark:** I hope this answered some of your questions. Oh, Ambrosius is like a bloodhound - he won't let go that easily... thanks for your review!

**Freespirit65:** Why?? Why did you remove all your stories?! ((stares in shock)) I _liked_ your stories! I'm sorry that you felt you can't continue writing them :( Thanks for your review, though – I'm glad you liked the chapter.

**Chenelle:** So how did you like your birthday chapter? Did it amount to your expectations? :D

**Eratosthenese:** Heh :) Thank you very much!

**JakKat:** There's still a long way for Godric and Rowena – but yes, I suppose you _could_ say this was a turning point... I have reviewed on one of your stories, I think – very good! I'll come back often to see if you update (or rather, wait for the author alert... :D). Thank you!

**Angelsword:** New reviewer! Yay! Thanks for your review! Oh, I _do_ like Helga – don't worry! I just said that before I started writing this story, Helga was my third favourite Founder – but she grows on me, and I am very fond of her. As I said in this chapter – it's almost a crime not to like her.

I have some plans concerning Salazar and Helga – though not necessarily romantic. I'll leave that as a secret, and therefore it shall keep you coming! ((laughs evilly))

Seriously, though, I'm happy you like my story so much, and I hope to see you around here a lot!

((catches cookie)) thanks!

P.s. I suppose you can just call it Helga/Salazar, can't you? :D

**That's all for now, friends! We'll be back soon with more adventures from our favourite boys and girls!**

**- Star of the North**


	10. Hatching a Plan

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N: **We-el… I know it takes me a long time to update, and honestly, I'm quite ashamed of myself, but here it is – chapter 9. I meant uploading it last Saturday, but as it turned out, the site had had problems, as you all must know, and in the meanwhile I went to a five-days-long school trip, and couldn't upload it. I'll try and write another chapter and update tomorrow or the day after.

I hope you will enjoy this – and do not despair!

P.s. I have a question to you all. Me and a friend of mine gave each other challenges – to write various drabbles on various ships (normal ones, weird ones, het, slash – everything, really). Would any of you be interested in reading them?

**Chapter 9 – Hatching a Plan**

_"In the days before the Founders had started their constitutional educating system of the younger generation, teaching the children was in their parents' jurisdiction. There was no formal system, and therefore the education was only partial and left a lot to be desired._

_"The house-teaching system lacked in more than one aspect. For instant, every witch or wizard has their own talents in different fields of magic. When only one parent (the mother more often than the father) was responsible of passing the knowledge of magic to the children, they only received the part which the parent was well-versed in, therefore missing other aspects of magic in which they might excel._

_"Another problem posed the parent's other duties, such as their own work or research, house-and-garden maintenance, and various other occupations. Often there was little time to teach an impatient child the art of magic._

_"A lot of children those days were prone to wand-less magic, which is uncontrolled and susceptible to emotional changes. This situation was caused because the children's parents never got around purchasing them a wand or teaching them how to properly channel their powers through a simple piece of wood._

_"The Founders had changed it all with their plan of group education…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author Unknown**

"Take another step, ruffian, and I will make sure there will be nothing left of you for the lawmen to hang."

Helga's breath hitched in her throat. It seemed as though Salazar had either led them to the wrong house, or that he had miscalculated their welcome.

The man who had Salazar at wand-point was big and burly. He had a mass of curly blonde hair and the most light-coloured eyes she had ever seen. Those eyes, together with his tanned complexion, made a fearsome combination. He was wearing well-made clothes and held himself proudly.

Salazar raised his hands, palms out. "Please, Bran. I need to-"

"You need nothing!" The man called Bran spat. "Go away and do not bother this house again."

"If you would just let me-"

"I am not jesting, Slytherin! Leave this house!"

"Dahlia-"

"Leave Dahlia out of it!" Bran hissed, his arm-muscles bulging menacingly. "I am master of this house! I will not have-"

"Bran? Who is it?" A woman's voice asked softly from inside the darkened house.

"A vagabond, Dahlia. Go back to bed. I will handle it."

"No!" Salazar called over the man's shoulder. "Dahlia! It's m-"

He did not get the chance to finish his words, for at that moment Bran's fist made contact with his jaw.

"You insolent fool!" Godric cried, drawing out his wand and pointing it at the man. "_Petrific_-"

"Godric, no!" Three voices cried at the same time. Helga knew that one of them was her. One was Rowena, who went as far as gripping Godric's wand-arm. The third voice came from a woman who burst from behind the man called Bran.

She was very pretty, with long, sleek black hair and large brown eyes. She was also tall and had the same presence both Godric and Salazar had. That moment, though, she was tired and scared, and very much with-child.

"Salazar," She asked softly, kneeling next to their fallen companion. "Are you all right?"

The man in question groaned and attempted to sit up. "My head…" He muttered, leaning back again, touching a hand to his jaw.

"Why did you do that, Bran?" The woman demanded angrily. "My own brother!"

Bran shifted his weight from side to side, looking mightily uncomfortable.

The woman was not done, however. "I can't believe you, Bran! You would rather believe that monster Ambrosius without even questioning it than believing Salazar? And _you_," She swirled her head to glare at Godric. "You were always quick to pick a fight! What good would it have done to attack my husband, Godric? And don't think _you_ are getting out of this cleanly, Salazar! Not a letter in six months! Not a word! What was I supposed to think? No wonder Bran believed the rumours and the Council Communications! _Men_."

Helga suddenly heard a muffled sound. She turned to look at Rowena who had let go of Godric's arm and was trying to suppress a fit of laughter.

Salazar's sister also seemed to hear the noise. Only then did she realize that she had had a crowd up till then. With reddening cheeks she clumsily clambered to her feet and lightly curtseyed. The two women returned the curtsey.

"Come, now," She said briskly. "We might as well get inside. It is a cold night."

"But – but, Dahlia!" Bran tried, his eyes darting from Godric to Salazar to Rowena to Helga. "They are-" He lowered his voice in fear of eavesdropping neighbours. "_Outcasts_."

"And he is my brother." She said sharply.

Helga entered after Dahlia into the house. Behind her Rowena and Godric helped Salazar up.

She could still hear Bran grumbling as he closed and locked the door.

Dahlia led them into a rather large kitchen. She stirred the fire up with her wand and lit a few candles.

In the flickering light she made them all a pot of tea and gave out chunks of bread and cheese. All this she had done in silence, pointedly ignoring both her brother and her husband. Only when she was finished did she sit on the padded bench between Godric and Rowena.

"Well?" She demanded scathingly. "I want an explanation, Salazar, and I want it now. Why is Ambrosius after you? What have you done? Or rather, what have you done _this_ time?"

Haltingly, and with constant corrections and additions from the other three, Salazar gave his sister the short version of the past few months.

"…And so we've been riding rather aimlessly, trying to keep out of the way." He finished, looking at Dahlia expectantly. "We don't have anywhere else to go, Dahlia. I realize we're risking your lives, but we needed shelter. Just for a little while. Just until we decide what to do with the rest of our lives."

"And what if the Council gets whiff of your presence here, eh?" Bran's expression was livid. "You have easily decided your lives are more important than ours! If they hear we are giving you shelter-"

"Hush, Bran." Dahlia said quietly, staring at her brother intently.

"I will not be hushed, Dahlia!" He snapped. "If you are willing to risk your own life – that is your choice, but what about Shane? What about Rhiannon and Warwick?"

"What about them?" Dahlia snapped. "What kind of a future have they if Ambrosius captures Salazar? They are his kin. That makes them a target even if they have nothing to do with him! Whatever we do, our children will pay. I am not giving up my only brother to the Council, Bran."

"Then what about me? If they are caught here – I will die!"

"I _know_, Bran!" She shouted, her eyes blazing. "I know they will kill you if they are found here. Did you think I had forgotten it? So do I have to choose between the two men I love? Which will die and which will live? What are you asking me to do? The truth is that no matter how much I love you, blood is important. I can't betray my own blood. The rest is for you to decide."

Helga felt horrible. This was not something one would want to witness.

She remembered only too well the last time her mother and father had fought over something like that.

It was on the day they had discovered her secret.

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_"No, Sigmund! You cannot let them do that!"_

_"I can do whatever I want to do, Gunhild! The girl is a monster!"_

_"She is not a monster! She is just our little girl! How can you cast her aside like this?"_

_"She is no daughter of mine! She is the devil's spawn! She worships him on moonless nights! She dances naked under the skies and sacrifices children to her evil master!"_

_"Oh, so you are now saying I fraternized with the Evil One? I gave birth to that child, Sigmund! I should know her!"_

_"Then you should have noticed that the Evil One's minions had exchanged our pure daughter with the offspring of the devil!"_

_"Helga is ours! I cannot believe you would let your own flesh burn!"_

_"She shall burn and she shall be cleansed of all sin!"_

_"You are the monster! How can you-"_

_There was the resounding smack of hand against cheek. Sigmund Hufflepuff had never raised his hand on any of his womenfolk – especially not on his wife. Never. Until the moment when all anger and grief formulated into that outburst of violence._

_"Mother!"_

_No voice had answered._

_She had not seen any of her parents since then._

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Helga shuddered. She hated remembering those hours, waiting for the men to take her to her death. She thought she was going to die that day, and that fear had never really let go of her. She wanted to be free more than anything in the world. They _had_ to make a plan. Something _had_ to be done.

"Master Bran," She said, catching them all by surprise. "I will make a deal with you. You will let us stay in your house for a little while – a month at the most – and in return we will protect your family in case Ambrosius and his men find out you have given us shelter."

"What can _you_ do that I can't?" He demanded bitterly.

"We are all powerful, Master Bran," She continued in the same calm tone, ignoring the sting he implied. "I believe you will find that we are much more powerful than all the members of the Council – including Ambrosius. They are afraid of what we may do were we ever to face them again. I promise you will not regret helping us."

There was a long moment of silence, in which she could see Bran was mulling over the idea. He then reluctantly nodded. "Two weeks." He finally said. "You will stay here no longer than two weeks. After that – I am turning you in myself."

"Fair enough." She said coolly.

"I am going back to bed, Dahlia. Do what you like." He said tersely, sweeping out of the room.

"What an oaf." Godric said after a moment.

Dahlia hit him, but Helga was surprised to see that she was smiling. "He may be an oaf, Godric – but he is _my_ oaf, and I am the only one allowed to bully him. And that means that _you_ can't, in case your brain is incapable of doing such simple math." She then glanced around the room. "Will you be all right sleeping on the floor tonight? I am too tired to make accommodations for you, and the kitchen is the innermost room, so no one from the village would be able to spot you."

"Perfectly fine, Dahlia." Salazar said. "Go to sleep, little one."

"Not so little anymore, I am afraid." She said with a tired smile, looking at her extended abdomen. She then turned to leave.

"Oh, and Dahlia?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

She nodded and left without another word.

Rowena padded quietly to the door and listened till she heard a door closing. She then stared at Helga with an amused expression on her face. "Powerful, Helga?" She asked, her voice brimming with mirth. "Afraid of us? Where did _that_ come from?"

Helga shrugged, grinning despite herself. "He needed convincing, and he looked like the sort of person to defer to power."

"An excellent reading of the man, my dear Madam Hufflepuff." Godric said. "Couldn't have said it better myself. Never really liked the arse myself, but Dahlia loves him, so that's good enough for me."

"I would have liked it better if _you_ would have married the girl, Godric." Salazar said wistfully. "Now I am stuck with _this_ person as a brother-in-law for the rest of my life. What made you throw such a great opportunity out of the window?"

Rowena suddenly seemed to stir. Helga saw some kind of emotion flicker in her friend's hazel eyes. It almost looked like…

"You were supposed to marry Salazar's sister?" She asked in what could best be described as a condescending tone. "Why would she marry a fool like _you_?"

"Why, yes." Godric said off-handedly, ignoring her snide comment. "A long time ago, that was."

"Mother expressed a wish to Godric's mother that the two will marry when they grow older." Salazar supplied.

Helga tried to tell them both with her eyes to drop the subject, as she could see Rowena's eyes clouding. She had no idea what made her friend so cold, so nasty to Godric again. They seemed to be getting on so much better of late. None of the men noticed her.

"Yes, Dahlia's only a month older than me," Godric said. "So Seraphine said that we would be perfect for each other."

"Then why on earth did you let her go, you dunderhead?" Salazar moaned, obviously still disturbed by the fact that Godric was not his brother-in-law.

"How could I marry someone whom I grew up with?" Godric demanded. "Dahlia is like my own sister!"

The shadow in Rowena's eyes disappeared almost as suddenly as it appeared. "We had better make ready to sleep." She said in a rush. "Helga managed buying us two weeks. If we get up early in the morning we could make an early start on our plans."

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Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

Drip.

Poke.

"I don' wan' t'get up yet, 'Wena. Lemme sleepff…" Helga muttered.

Drip.

Something was _dripping_ on her. It was sticky. And someone was repeatedly poking her face. With a sticky finger.

Blearily, and with much effort, she opened an eye. There was a huge amber eye staring unblinkingly right into her own eye.

With a shrill cry of panic she sat bolt upright, her cloak falling from her shoulders in the process.

The owner of the amber eye continued staring at her.

"Err… Hello." Helga attempted.

The owner of the amber eye blinked.

A woman's laughter made her look up.

Dahlia smiled at her. "Good morning… Helga, is it? I do apologize on my daughter's behalf. She seems to be fascinated with the new playmates that had arrived last night. Say hello, Rhiannon. Say hello to Helga."

"Helloelga." The small girl with the amber eyes and dark brown hair mumbled.

"Hello, Rhiannon." She said kindly, noticing in dismay that the sticky thing she felt was the girl's molasses-dripping fingers. "I have molasses on my face, don't I?"

Dahlia nodded, stifling a grin.

Helga looked around her, ignoring Rhiannon's insistent stare. "Where are the others?"

"Oh, Godric and Salazar left before daylight with Bran to make sure the horses are well-hidden and safe. Rowena… I think she's in the pantry – hiding."

"Hiding from what?"

"Hiding from whom, rather." This time the older woman did not bother hiding her grin. "The boys had chased her into there about an hour ago."

"Boys?"

"Shane and Warwick. Shane's the eldest, and Warwick is Rhiannon's twin. They saw her performing some sort of spell this morning and have been badgering her to teach them since then. They are not allowed into the pantry, so she deemed it a safe harbour."

"Sounds like Rowena." Helga said, rolling her eyes. "She likes quiet studying above anything else. Give her a book and she would be happy anywhere. So where are the boys now?"

"Playing in their bedroom. They are not allowed out of the house now. It's too dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"To you, my dear. They are only children. Children are not known for keeping secrets."

Helga's heart nearly stopped. They had never considered that.

"Oh, don't worry." Dahlia dismissed her worries as she read them on her face. "Wizarding children are intelligent. We will keep them inside for two weeks and after you leave have a small chat with them. They will not grumble too much because of their confinement. The weather is foul anyway."

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Dahlia was not mistaken. The children did not mind staying inside. The weather outside was indeed foul, and the company inside was much more amusing in their eyes.

The boys were robust and loud. They liked to play and run. They loved seeing Godric and Salazar doing magic tricks for them and badgered Rowena nonstop to teach them how to do more complex magic than their parents had ever shown them.

Rhiannon was at first more shy and mostly kept to her mother's skirt, but soon enough she opened up to them. She made Helga her new pet, always demanding attention, and joined the boys in badgering Rowena.

Dahlia was delighted to have them there. She enjoyed speaking with Helga and Rowena (she had confided in them, saying that the only women in the Loch were horrible gossips – especially that horrible bar wench called Calanthe, whom Godric and Salazar were very fond of, and used to spend a lot of time in her company), bantering with Godric, and criticizing her brother (mostly for his lack of romantic interests).

Bran was a different story altogether. He hated their presence and wanted them out of his house as soon as possible, but could not do so without angering both his wife and his children. Helga had decided that even though he was full of audacity and nerve he was very much afraid of his wife.

The first week in Dahlia's house they had spent brainstorming.

"We simply have to find something we all agree on!" Godric burst one evening. The four were left to keep an eye on the children while Dahlia and Bran left for a meeting in the Loch's local tavern. "It is not that difficult!"

"We _are_ agreeing, dimwit!" Rowena snapped, gripping the table till her knuckles went white. Helga thought she was fighting an urge to hex Godric. "We are all agreed that the Council is a diminishing organization. They are losing their ground. They cannot be expected to do anything in favour of the community. We are the only ones remaining who actually want to do something about it."

"And that leads us nowhere!" He grounded back, his eyes ablaze.

"Peace!" Salazar shushed them both. He pulled a piece of parchment from the pile on the table in Dahlia's kitchen. "The first thing we need to work out, my friends is where to stay once our two weeks allowance ends. We cannot underestimate Bran. He may truly hand us to the region's lawmen. Everything else is rather insignificant at the moment."

"Dahlia said that there is no place in the area where we can hide." Salazar said. "And she has been living here for a longer time than either myself or Godric. Furthermore, when she was young she had time to make excursions around here. She knows of no place."

"How about the Caves?" Godric asked, frowning.

"The Caves?" Salazar frowned as well.

"Sir Rhys once told me that there are caves nearby. He just called them the Caves and never said another word about them, but for some reason the name stuck."

"We can have a look around when the time expires." Helga suggested. "It seems like the best course of action right now. If Dahlia knows of no place, the chances that we will find one by ourselves are very slim."

"The least we can do it try." Rowena said with a shrug. "Who is Sir Rhys?"

"My Master." Godric said. "He taught me when I was young. He was one of the Knights of the Phoenix – one of your father's men."

"Is he still alive?"

There was a strange glow in Rowena's eyes.

"Why, yes. He lives around here."

"Can he be trusted?" Helga interjected herself into their conversation.

"Can he be _trusted_?" Godric asked incredulously. "He was one of the greatest Knights! He continues to teach young wizards the arts of the Knights! How can he _not_ be trustworthy?"

"Calm down, Godric!" She said in alarm. "I only meant to ask this so that I could determine whether we should go and ask for his help! Salazar was sure that we will be completely welcome here, and he was mistaken. Can this Sir Rhys be trusted to let us in, or not threaten to hand us in?"

Godric sighed. "I haven't seen the old man in over a decade, but… I think he will help us."

"We need trustworthy men." Rowena said. "We should start making enquiries around – once we have a safe shelter. People we can trust to help us, were we to oppose the Council openly."

"What do you mean?" Salazar was confused.

"I mean, if we decide to… let's say – overthrow the Council? Get rid of Ambrosius? Do _something_. Our world is falling apart – and they are to blame. If we have a strong group of supporters to back us in case we want to tell the truth to the Wizarding World – we can make sure Ambrosius will never cause harm to a living soul ever again!"

"That's _it_!" Helga said excitedly. "Supporters! Look at us, will you? We have Searlas Slytherin's son, Gawain Gryffindor's son – _Raven Lord's daughter_. I may be relatively ignorant concerning the Wizarding World, but I do know that all three were powerful men. They must have had supporters who still believe in them – who are still loyal to them even after all Ambrosius had done! We should start foraging for these people – they can help us! With their help we will no longer have to live in fear!"

"But how will we contact them?" Salazar demanded. "It is not like we can just walk into a wizarding holding and ask to use an owl."

"That's true…" Helga's excitement diminished.

"But you can ask your sister and Sir Rhys." Dahlia's voice suddenly said from behind them. All four turned their heads in shock. "And please lower your voices. The children might wake up."

"We didn't realize you would be back so soon." Salazar said sheepishly. "What was the meeting about?"

"Oh, this and that." She said evasively, removing her damp cloak and hanging it on the back of a chair in front of the fireplace. "How are the children?"

"They are all right. Didn't wake up once. What is it, Dahlia? What was discussed in the meeting?"

"You." Bran said from the doorway. His face was unnaturally grey and he looked frightened. "Alistair McAlister said that the lawmen managed tracking your trail to here. They will be in the Loch within two days. Anyone who had seen you must speak to Alistair immediately or the results will be dire."

"He cornered us when we were about to leave." Dahlia spat. "Said he knows we're sheltering you and that if we don't want him to tattle to the lawmen, we are to hand you to him tonight. I told him to stuff it."

"Alistair?" Godric asked. "Is he Reid McAlister's son?"

"You remember him."

"Vaguely. Big burly fellow? Squints in one eye?"

"That's him."

"Never liked him. Very well then. We have to leave tonight. He will not be able to prove you gave us shelter."

"Where will you go?" Dahlia demanded in the same time the other three asked "Where will we go?"

"To Rhys'. Just for a short while. He will probably remember what he told me about the Caves, and then we will be able to hide somewhere where we don't risk the lives of those who help us."

"Then I will make you dinner and some food that will keep you for a while." Dahlia said promptly. "Bran? Take a look at the children, all right? See if they are still asleep."

"Right." Her husband said, apparently glad to be away from their presence. "I'm sure the children are all right, though."

Dahlia waved him off. "I nearly had to hex him tonight." She said in an undertone. "He was _this_ close to admitting you are living here. I needed to remind him that he may be risking the children. All night long." She made a face.

"Then we will go to Rhys'." Rowena said. "But that doesn't solve our problem. Having supporters and allies is very good, but we are not going on an armed crusade. What will we do once we are in a safe place?"

"I cannot help you there, Rowena." Dahlia said with a sigh. "Were the children well-behaved before we they went to bed?"

_There was a lot of mention of children this evening…_ Helga thought to herself, not really listening to Godric's amused recounting of the botched dinner they had tried feeding Rhiannon and Warwick.

The word kept on ringing in her head. She could not get rid of it. Dahlia and Bran risked the lives of their _children_. The _children_ nagged Rowena to teach them tricks. The _children_ are asleep. Do not wake the _children_.

So much worry for those little things that one day will grow up and continue the legacy of their parents. So much trouble to go through just to raise one child, let alone three or four or five.

How are the children?

_The children_.

"The children!" Helga choked.

"What?!" Dahlia spun to face her. "What is wrong with the children? Did you hear anything?"

"No!" Helga blurted out. "That's the answer, Raven!"

"The answer to what?"

"You asked what will we do once we are in a safe place! That's _it_. We will teach the children! If we educate the children to stand for themselves and not let the Council use them or neglect them-"

"Then we can fight them without actually harming anyone!" Rowena completed. "Helga – you are a genius!"

**A/N:** Ho-hum, you know the routine… Please review! :D

**To my reviewers:**

**JakKat:** Oops. Sorry about the typoes. Usually I go through the chapter once to see if there are any, but when I last updated I was in a bit of a rush. One-shots are very nice, but for some reason I'm incapable of doing them properly – unless I am given a specific idea and instructions. Thanks for reviewing! :D

**Eratosthenese:** Well… I hope that answers your question ;) There will be a reason – I promise! Thank you!

**Shadow-n-the-dark:** Heh, yep, that would definitely kill part of the story – but not really, because they _will_ end up going somewhere that will not risk anyone they know much – you'll just have to wait and see. Probably in the next chapter or two (I have a complete plan till chapter 16 now – so I can actually give you pointers to how long some things are going to take). So anyhoo – ask a lot of questions! I love questions :D

**Roe Merrifield ((freespirit65: **I am very sorry that you have stopped writing :( I hope you will keep on reading my story though… thanks…

**Chenelle:** Glad you liked last chapter :) ((smiles brightly)) It would have been sad if you wouldn't have liked your own b-day chapter. Hope you have enjoyed this one as well!

**Si-FiAdict246:** Hello, new reviewer! Well the question of Helga/Salazar hadn't been completely thought out wait – so you'll just have to wait patiently ((cackles evilly)) Thank you very much for reviewing!

**That it for now! Hopefully I will update again tomorrow!**

**- Star of the North**


	11. Capture of the Warthogs

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Chapter 10 is _finally_ here. I hope you will enjoy it!

**Chapter 10 – Capture of the Warthogs**

_"What is Hogwarts? Is it a school? Is it an historic monument? In truth it is all of those and none of them at the same time. For each witch and wizard it symbolizes a different thing. Each one has their own traditions concerning the ancient building._

_"The next question we must ask ourselves is: _where_ is Hogwarts? Unfortunately, we may not answer this question directly – for it is impossible to include a map. The castle is unplottable and therefore its exact location is unknown. What we _can_ say, is that the castle is situated near a lake which once upon a time was simple referred to as the Loch. The wizarding village nearby was also called the Loch, though modern readers will realize that it does not go by that name anymore._

_"On the shore of the Loch was once an old fort from the days of the Romans. It was nameless, for its significance had been little. It had been abandoned even before the final retreat of the Roman Empire from Britain and had long since fallen into ruin._

_"The Founders, in their search for a location in which they would build their home, had stumbled upon the ruins of the fort and had decided that it was the best place for them…"_

**-Hogwarts, A History; Author Unknown**

Ceridwen Hyledd Gwyneira Elain Gryffindor was tired. It had been a long day for her and all she wanted was to go into her warm bed and sleep the day off.

She was not old – only in her fifties – but that night she felt as if she carried a mountain on her shoulders. She felt heavy and worn.

For the past year or so – ever since she left her brother Gladwyn's house – she had been playing Lady of the House for her old friend Sir Rhys. His wife had died a few years prior and none of his sons were married as yet, so when she had arrived, the house at the Loch was in shambles.

That was then. She felt quite at home in Rhys' house now. Here no one badgered her to get remarried. Rhys had taken care of _that_ little unpleasantness. As an old friend of Gawain, the dear old man felt he was responsible to keeping the honour of his friend's widow. He vehemently chased off any suitors who decided it was their duty to 'save' Gawain Gryffindor's beautiful wife from her grief.

Those people made her want to lose her dinner. They were sickening. Sometimes she wished Godric was there to show them what he thought of people trying to use his mother.

Thinking of her son, Ceridwen felt she had to smile. The boy had so much temper to vent out on people. He was always a hothead. She had not seen him in years, a fact that made her a bit saddened. When Ambrosius had made him and Salazar Servants of the Council she had wanted to go to Stonehenge and wallop the miscreant soundly. Only Gladwyn's threats to gag and bind her had made her settle back down. She had never been closer to killing her own kin.

The recent news of the Council hunting Godric and three others down caught her by surprise. She had not heard from him in quite a few months, living on tidbits Dahlia could give her from Salazar's letters. He was always the more responsible one in those matters. So when Sion came excitedly into the house, holding a rough sketch resembling Godric, saying Ambrosius wants him dead, she was very much alarmed – and in a way, proud.

Sighing, Ceridwen slid out of her day-clothes and into her nightshift. All through the day she and Rhys' two youngest boys, Haul and Siarl, had laboured around the house, preparing it for the feast of their eldest brother's wedding the following evening. There were chickens to roast, pigs to bleed, fruits and vegetables to pick, clean and cut, butter to churn, cauldrons to boil… on and on the list went. It was long past sunset and Ceridwen's bedtime was long gone. When she had finally locked the house only moments ago, she could have sworn she had heard her bed calling her name.

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It felt as though she had just closed her eyes when frantic knocks on her chamber's door woke her up. She mumbled something incoherent and tried to go back to sleep, but the knocking did not cease.

Ceridwen tried to ignore it, but soon the person knocking called "Ceridwen! Ceridwen! There are strangers asking to be let inside! Please get up!"

With a long-suffering groan, she got up and wrapped herself in her winter cloak, and trudged to the door.

There were a lot of downsides to holding the keys to a house. _Thank Merlin that tomorrow that Lleulu girl is taking over the keys…_ Her sleep-fuddled mind grumbled.

"Could you not wake me up more quietly, boy?" She huffed at Sion, the man to be married on the morrow. "I daresay you have raised the ghosts of your forefathers with your shouts."

"My apologies, Aunt Ceridwen." The young man said sheepishly. "But the strangers have threatened me with violence were I not to call you – and one of the women said she will… she will…" He gulped. "Well, that she will do something that will cause me great embarrassment with Lleulu tomorrow night."

Ceridwen shook her head exasperatedly. _This boy is most definitely the shyest one I had ever met. Twenty three year old and shies away from bluntness. I must speak with Lleulu before the wedding tomorrow._ She was also very interested to know why such a coarse-tongued woman would want to get into Sir Rhys' home. "Come along, then, Sion." She told the boy. "And have your wand at the ready. We must defend this house if the company is not favourable."

She made her way down to the ground floor, where Sir Rhys and his other six sons were already milling about.

"See, Sion." She told him plaintively. "I _told_ you your knocks were too loud."

"What is going on?" Rhys asked, still in the act of pulling a robe over his night things.

"Guests." Ceridwen answered curtly and hurried to the front door with the ring of keys. "Sion, come with your wand at the ready. I do not want this house overridden by thugs."

She unlocked the door and opened it to a crack, holding her wand tightly under her cloak. "Identify yourselves if you wish to enter this house." She said.

"It is cold outside, Mother," Said a familiar voice in a whiny tone. "Can we discuss it inside?"

"Godric!" She screeched, flinging the door wide open and throwing herself into the arms of her son, entirely oblivious to her unladylike behaviour.

"Hello, Mother." He chuckled. "Can we _please_ take this inside? We are freezing here."

"Oh." She turned, a little embarrassed, to Rhys. "Rhys? Is it…?"

The old man nodded without hesitation. "Of course. I would not dream of leaving travelers in need outside on such a cold night."

With a feeling of relief, Ceridwen moved aside to let the four companions come in. When they were all inside, she locked the door again and turned to face the newcomers.

They were all a little mud-splattered, and the wind outside had tousled their hairs, but they seemed to be all in one piece and well enough.

"Mother, Sir Rhys," Godric said politely. "You already know Salazar. These are Helga and Rowena. We will not impose on you for long. We just came here to ask for directions and then we will leave."

"Nonsense, dear boy!" Rhys cried. "You cannot possibly mean to leave this house in such foul weather! I will hear none of this! Come, come! Into the kitchen all of you! Haul, Siarl, Berwyn, and Goronwy! I want the four of you back in bed. Ilar, Padrig and Sion – you may stay. Now, boys! Before I will use my wand against your hide! Go to bed!"

The four youngest boys scampered out. The older three followed them into the kitchen, where the huge fireplace was alight. They all sat on the low benches near it and lapsed into silence.

Ceridwen gazed at her son's companions. She had known Salazar for years – having watched over him for hours whenever Gawain and Searlas were busy discussing politics and planning ways to go around Ambrosius' dictatorship. Merlin knows she had spanked the boy enough times to know every inch of him. Not quite as many times as her own boy, however. Godric had not been the best of children.

Salazar had not changed much in the years she had not seen him. He looked a little more tired and had a sort of defeated expression on his face, but his eyes still shone in determination.

The smaller girl – Helga – was sitting between Salazar and the other girl. It looked as though she was trying to hide herself in their shadow. Her small, round face was very attractive, but her eyes had a haunted look in them. She had seen much.

The second girl, whom her son called Rowena, was entirely different. She was beautiful, but in a way that told Ceridwen that she was completely unaware of it. She held herself with pride. There was something in her features that nagged her. She was almost certain she had seen her before.

Rhys reached that selfsame conclusion, it seemed, for soon he said, interrupting the silence "Have you ever been to the Loch, girl? I could have sworn I have seen someone remarkably like you at some point."

Rowena raised her face and looked directly into Rhys' eyes. Something in the directness of the gaze made Ceridwen think of a predatory bird. "I have never been to the Loch, Sir Rhys." Rowena said in a clear voice. "Nor have you ever seen me. However, from the tales of Lords Slytherin and Gryffindor, you have known my father – and perhaps my mother as well."

"She is Raven Lord's daughter." Godric clarified.

"Raven Lord's daughter?" Rhys said in not more than a whisper. "Ryan's little one?"

Ceridwen was just as shocked. She had heard all those years ago that Ryan Ravenclaw had finally married his sweetheart – but it never occurred to her that a child had been conceived.

Now that she knew why Rowena was so familiar to her, she watched her more carefully. She could now easily determine the distinctive features she must have received from her father. Merlin knows she had seen Raven Lord enough times to recognize these features as his.

"How…" Rhys' voice stuck in his throat. He cleared it. "How is your father?"

Rowena lowered her intent gaze and blinked hard. Ceridwen guessed she was holding back tears. Her heart felt heavy. This was not a good sign.

"He is dead." The girl said with difficulty. "Almost three years now. The Muggles from the village nearby burned him."

A movement from her side caught Ceridwen's attention. She glanced at her son. His hands were twitching in his lap, and she was certain that he was fighting an urge to go forward and comfort Rowena.

A smirk spread on her lips. This may not have been the time to think of this, but her mother instincts chose that moment to kick in.

"I am sorry to hear that." Rhys said, bowing his head. "He was a dear friend to me, and one of the best men I had had the pleasure to have known."

"I thank you for your kind words." Rowena said, suddenly completely in control again. "But this is not a time to bring back an old pain. We must ask you for directions and tomorrow, before dawn breaks, we will leave you in peace."

"Where do you wish to go from here?" Rhys asked, fighting to control his own emotions and trying to be as brisk as possible.

"You once mentioned Caves when you were teaching me the ways of the Knights," Godric explained. "We thought we would go there and hide until we are strong enough to show our faces in the community again."

"Caves?" Ceridwen exclaimed, glancing at Rhys. "Surely you don't mean the Caves above the village? Children play there these days! It will not be a safe place."

"Then we have to go to a place far from the Wizarding World." Salazar said with finality. It was the first words she had heard him utter, and she was shaken with the realization of how similar to his father's his voice had been. "We have no choice, Godric. This was our last idea."

"Not true, Salazar." She said, a picture of a place in mind. "There is one place where I am certain you will be safe. Not even the bravest of children venture there."

"What place, Ceridwen?" Rhys asked, his brow creasing. "I know of no place in which they may hide from Ambrosius' prying eyes."

"The old fort."

She knew it would take a long time to convince Rhys, but she had not expected him to oppose the idea so vehemently.

"No!" He cried, his eyes widening. "I will not have this! They can_not_ go to the old fort! It is a dangerous place."

She snorted. "No more dangerous than any place in Britain as far as they are concerned. And in the fort they will at least be saved from Ambrosius' creatures. None will dare get near the place."

"There is a monster there! Will you send your only son to the jaws of the murderous creature?"

"Why do you underestimate your own protégé so? My son is one of the greatest warriors of the age and one of the strongest wizards. I doubt this phantom can hurt him or one of his companions."

"A… a monster?" A timid voice asked.

Ceridwen turned to look at the one who had spoken. Helga looked up at her, her eyes wide with fear. "A real monster?"

She realized that Helga was but a girl. She wondered just how old she actually was.

"Of course not!" She said, waving aside Rhys' glare. "There is no monster. Just a fable made up by country folk who had not had a better thing to do with their spare time or had been too long in their cup of ale."

"So what is this old fort, Mother?" Godric asked in fascination. She remembered fondly that he had always been keen on stories where there was an evil monster to be vanquished.

"A jumble of ruins a few miles away, just on the shores of the Loch. The Romans built it a long time ago and left it for ruin. It is a rather stark place, and you may have difficulties at first, but there are enough building materials there and food sources aplenty in the nearby forest, so I do believe that it is the best place for you. You will also benefit from the fact that the village people all around do not dare go near the place in fear of the monster."

"Sounds like a grim place to build a center of operations at." Rowena said. "But you are right, Lady Gryffindor, it _is_ the best place for us. Can you lead us there?"

"But of course. Tomorrow morning, then?"

"It is just a few hours away, Mother." Godric said worriedly. "Are you quite sure you are up to it?"

She mock-glared at her son. "I am not that old, my boy. Please do not insult me. Boys! To bed! You have a big day tomorrow and I will not be here until lunch time. I want everything to be ready by the time I am back. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Madam." The three muttered in unison.

Ceridwen watched their retreating backs fondly. "They are such good boys. Why were you such an awful child, Godric?"

"_Mother!_" Godric protested. "I was _not_ that awful!"

Ceridwen was gratified by Rowena's small snigger at that revelation. She _liked_ that girl. "You, too, Rhys. You may not be bridegroom, but trust me; you are not going to be idle tomorrow. You will not rest until we have that boy of yours safely bedded."

The old man blushed. "I _do_ wish you would not speak so bluntly, Ceridwen."

"Why ever not?" She demanded with raised eyebrows. "You know as well as I do what happens after a man and a woman marry. Unless you still believe babies arrive from under leaves of lettuce?"

His blush deepened and he did not meet her eyes. "I will go to bed."

"You do that."

Once Rhys was out of the room, she turned back to the four and found that Helga had fallen asleep on Salazar's shoulder and that Godric got up and was busily stirring the fire. Rowena, however, was lookingdirectly into her eyes. The corner of her mouth twitched.

"Something amusing, Madam Ravenclaw?" Ceridwen asked mildly, fighting her own amusement.

"Nothing at all, Lady Gryffindor. I was merely… watching. You handle Sir Rhys well – much as my mother handled my father."

"Your mother is Rosalind Fitzpatrick, is she not?"

"She is, though she goes by Ravenclaw since she married Father. Did you know her?"

"Not well. She was best friends with Seraphine – Salazar's mother. I was a friend of Seraphine, and so we knew each other and were on friendly terms. She is a good woman – and a strong one to leave all comforts of society and go to exile together with the one she loved."

Ceridwen thought she saw Rowena blink back tears. "You are fond of Sir Rhys, are you not?" The girl asked, changing the subject.

"I am very fond of him, yes." Ceridwen answered warily. "Why do you ask?"

"It just seems weird, that you are so fond of each other, that both of you are widowers, yet you do not…" Her words faded. "I am not being too bold, am I? I have rarely seen a relationship between a man and a woman that did not consist of-"

Ceridwen laughed. "Oh, I see. No, it is not too bold of you, dear. You are much in the same situation with Salazar, are you not? You are both fond of each other and do not have marital ties to stop you, yet you remain friends. It confuses you, does it not? You were never told that such a thing existed! My dear girl, a man and a woman can be just friends – like any pair of girls or boys are. Rest assured that there is nothing wrong with the sisterly feelings you have for him."

"You only named Salazar."

Ceridwen smiled in what she hoped was a mysterious fashion. "I have my reasons. Now I must go to bed. I will see you in a few hours' time." And she left before the young woman had a chance to question her further.

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The morning dawned crisp and cool. Ceridwen and the four companions were already up and far away from the village. She had burrowed a small palfrey from Rhys' stables and led them down the slightly jagged landscape towards the Lake.

They rode slowly because the grey light did not allow them to be careless. The ground was uneven and treacherous to the unwary.

Most of the way she had to fight a small smirk. Seeing the way her son sat behind Rowena on his horse, touching-not-touching her sides as he held the reins… It reminded her so much of Gawain's uncertainness during their courtship period. Her eyes clouded as she remembered what happened afterwards.

Her family did not accept her choice. Her family was very strong, but kept to itself and did not meddle with the business of the Council. Gawain Gryffindor was the exact opposite of them. Even at seventeen it was a known fact that Ambrosius wanted him gone – preferably dead, but if that option was not possible, he would have made do with demotion.

Her family had wanted her to have nothing with such a person.

She had told them to go and stick their oversized noses into someone else's business. That had been the day her father had had her thrown out of the house, never to return.

For twenty years she had lived with Gawain. When he died, she had no one to turn to. She was a thirty-seven-year-old widow with a five-year-old son, her father did not want her back, and her husband had no other family.

Only then, after a twenty years rift, her brother Gladwyn invited her to live with him. That was where she had lived until Rhys had invited her to his home, knowing that she disliked the fuss made around her unmarried status.

She swore that such a thing would not happen to her own son.

They rode in near silence for a long time. The reason why the silence was not complete was the whispered argument she heard coming from the direction of Godric and Rowena. They were arguing about Godric's hands and where he ought to put them.

"-Exactly am I supposed to-?"

"-Definitely not _there_!"

"-Need to-"

"-hold the reins, my-!"

"-So disagreeable?"

"-_Me_?"

Ceridwen chuckled to herself. She _really_ liked that girl.

"We are almost there." She said, looking ahead. "Just a few more minutes of easy riding."

Just a few moments later she halted her palfrey and dismounted. "Behold." She said in an amused voice. The ruins of Cormag's Fort."

They were standing right on the shore of the Lake, and not far off, clearly in sight in the grey light, were the ruins of a large stone building. Piles over piles of rubble indicated that this was once a very active place. There was evidence of towers which once had stood in the corners of the fort, and massive walls made of thick blocks of stone.

"Come." She invited them. "Let us go and look for that monster before we have you settled in."

Together they walked the short distance to the ruins.

"So, Mother," Godric started conversationally. "What is this story of the monster?"

"Well," She said in the same storyteller voice she used to use whenever telling her son a bedtime story. "The dry facts of the ruination of the fort are that the Romans left it when fighting the Scottish tribes became too much of a hassle for them. The truth is that they left it long before that. One day, when the fort was still whole and full of soldiers and their women, and old man appeared at its gates. He asked shelter for the night, for the country was unsafe at the time, and the nearest village was too far off for him to get there before nightfall.

"Laughing, the soldiers manning the walls said that if he would swim in the Lake naked, they would let him in.

"Now, this was at the very start of winter. The Lake was already beginning to freeze, and the sun was already down. The man, however, took the soldiers at their word. He removed his clothes and swam in the Lake until he could not feel anything. Then he climbed out and discovered the horrible truth.

"Not only did the soldiers lie to him, not only did they not intend to let him in – they had also stolen his clothes while he was taking his swim.

"I suppose that if the soldiers had known that this man was a wizard, they would not have done that. But they had not known and now the wizard wanted revenge. He knew he was going to die – his wand was in his coat's pocket – so with his last strengths, he invoked a curse that had never been used before. The one of the Wizard's Death. Each wizard can curse someone with their dying breath – though it is not a known thing. And he cursed the fort, willing a terrible beast to plague them.

"The soldiers tried to kill that beast, but nothing worked. They left the fort, and soon it fell into ruin. The beast, however, still dwells among the ruins and is said to kill all who comes near them." She finished the story with a dramatic overtone.

"What kind of a beast is it?" Rowena asked, rather ruining the effect.

Ceridwen shrugged. "A giant beast that had never been seen in Britain. That's all they say."

While she was telling the story, they reached the ruins and entered them. There was nothing much left standing – a few pieces of wall and the start of a staircase was about all.

As they reached the heart of the old fort, the companions slowly drifted from one another. The sun was starting to rise and they could see a little better now.

Ceridwen found a large stone with an interesting inscription in Latin when a shrill scream caused her to turn sharply and run towards the source of it.

As she neared it, Helga bumped into her, crying. "There _is_ a monster!" She almost shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "-There are _two_ of them! I saw them! I _saw_ them!"

"Helga!" Rowena, who had just arrived, snapped. "There is no such thing as monsters. Show me what scared you."

Helga held tightly to Ceridwen and shook her head.

"Then tell me from what direction you came."

The girl pointed mutely. Rowena walked through a crumbling archway and into a shadowy area. Salazar and Godric, who reached them just as she disappeared, attempted to call her back, but she ignored them.

"I am going after her." Godric said. "She should not go there by herself."

But before he had a chance to follow her, they all heard a loud, clear laughter coming from the shadows beyond the arch.

"Come and see your monsters, Helga!" Rowena's voice called. "Why – they are so _scary_."

Slowly, the rest of the company passed the archway. Just beneath a whole piece of wall, Rowena was standing with her wand alight, showering golden light on two objects.

"Monsters!" Helga shrieked, holding Ceridwen so tight that she feared the girl may stop her blood circulation.

"Oh, calm down, Helga. These are merely statues of boars." Godric said, walking up to the two gruesome statues. "Very ugly boars, at that." He conceded.

"Those are _not_ boars, Godric." Rowena said scathingly.

"Then, pray tell, what _are_ they, since you seem to know everything about everything?"

Ceridwen winced at her son's reply. That boy needed a firm talking-to – and soon.

Rowena seemed to think that as well, for she glared at him and said "They are warthogs, you illiterate pig. And in case you did not know – A pig is not a boar – nor is it a warthog. That was just for your general education, since _you_ seem to know nothing about anything!"

She then walked off to sulk.

Salazar rolled his eyes and gently disengaged Helga's fingers from Ceridwen's cloak.

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As Ceridwen prepared to leave the companions and return to the preparations for Sion's wedding, Salazar came to say goodbye.

"May I ask why my son has not come with you?" She asked.

"You may." He smiled. "He is busily sulking at one side of camp while Rowena is sulking on the other side. I am starting to see a pattern in their disagreeableness. Do you?"

"Certainly. I have seen it the moment they had stepped into Rhys' kitchen. But that is because I am a woman, so do not deem yourself foolish for not noticing it before."

He helped her up to her saddle.

"By the way. Salazar," She said as she started riding back to the Loch. "This is just a suggestion, and you are free to ignore it, but as I think you need to find a different name to the ruins than Carmag's Fort, how about Warthogs Fort? To commemorate the hunt for the Warthogs of the Fort?"

He thought that over. "I have a better name. How about the Castle of Hogwarts?"

**A/N:** Ta-da! And here we have the origins of Hogwarts Castle! Did you like it? Did you think it was completely and utterly implausible? Then review and tell me what you think!

**To all my lovely reviewers, who wait for a new chapter for a long time…**

**Eratosthenese:** Thank you very much!

**Roe Merrifield (freespirit65:** Heh. I love these names as well – I have a very good site in which I could fine all the lovely names I've been using for this story. Thank you so much!

**Shadow-n-the-dark:** Hogwarts will soon indeed begin! I hope I'm not stretching this too much… Oh, yes, Bran _is_ an asshole. Can't believe Dahlia preferred him over Godric… Thank you :D

**JakKat:** ((bows)) I have the master plan! MUHAHAHAHA! Ehm. That was a momentarily interruption… Thanks for your review! Can't wait for more chapters from your story!

**Chenelle:** I hope this chapter answered that question you asked… I certainly hope this is not a too flimsy excuse for the name… Thank you! :)

**Angelsword:** Thank you _so_ much! Heh… Yeah, Godric is quite insensitive, but he's just being thick. It'll pass – sooner or later ;) You made a lot of sense and your review was great! Thanks again!

**That's it for now! The _really_ funny thing is that I have already written the epilogue and parts of various other chapters – just me writing in a bit of a jumble on many pieces of paper… Expect about thirty-something chapters.**

**- Star of the North**


	12. Setting Camp

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** As usual, I must start with my sincerest apologies. I first meant to upload this chapter as a Christmas present for all those who celebrate it. Then I meant to upload it for New Year's Eve, but that plan failed as well. So here, after such a long wait, is chapter 11. Enjoy!

**One important note and a question:** First, the note. Some of you asked me if there's really a monster. There isn't one (aside of the Giant Squid, that is ;) ). It was simply a legend, combined with the two hideous statues and overactive imaginations. Would you like there to be a monster? I'm pretty sure I can fit one in :)

Now the question. Someone told me I have too much dialogue in my chapters – what do you think? Less dialogue or the same? I'd really appreciate your opinions.

**P.S.** I've never received so many reviews over one chapter, so all I can say: THANK YOU SO _MUCH_, PEOPLE! ((hugs you all and wanders off, humming to self happily))

**Chapter 11 – Setting Camp**

_"The layout of Hogwarts Castle and the grounds surrounding it as we know them today, took the Founders over twenty years to finalize, and even then changes were ever occurring._

_"In the first years of its existence, the school had only been a small building, ready to accommodate the few children of the Loch, while the Founders worked endlessly on rebuilding the fort._

_"During those years, the first of the three Apparation shields Rowena Ravenclaw had designed was erected. It was much weaker than the final version and encompassed only a very small area…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Helga was still unsure concerning the hideous statues of the warthogs. No matter what Rowena had said. She still believed that the monster Lady Gryffindor told them about was real. She spent the entire night looking over her shoulder, believing that any minute a foul creature could leap on her from the shadows.

Godric and Rowena were sitting from either side of the fire, pointedly ignoring each other. Helga felt it was all too ridiculous. The two certainly liked each other well enough, but their recent behaviour caused her to believe that there was something else between them. She made a mental note to watch them closely in the future.

Otherwise than the monster, Helga thought that the ruins of Cormag's Fort were lovely. Together with the dark forest and the blue lake, it made a beautiful picture. This was a place she could live at for the rest of her life.

If only there was no monster…

Salazar came back. He was the one who went to bid Lady Gryffindor goodbye. He had a bright smile on his face. Helga decided that he should smile more. His smile made his whole face light up.

"What are _you_ so happy about?" grumbled Godric as he caught sight of Salazar's smile.

"Ceridwen and I have thought of a name for this place," Salazar said happily.

"A name? It already has a name, doesn't it? Cormag's Fort."

Salazar sniffed in distaste. "Do you _really_ want our centre of operations to be called after some Muggle?"

"I suppose not."

"Then listen to me. I'm sure you will love this name. Hogwarts. How about that?"

"Hogwarts? Sounds like some sort of disease."

Salazar snorted. "Do try and be less judgmental, Godric. You're in a bad mood today."

"Am I? I didn't notice," the other man huffed, sending a piercing glare in Rowena's direction.

Rowena glared back and then turned sweetly to Salazar. "As a matter of fact, Salazar," she said. "I think it's just the right name. Helga?"

"It's… rather catchy, isn't it?" Helga asked. _She_ liked the sound of it. It rang nicely in her ear and it _did_ have a reason behind it - it was not just a made-up name.

_I hope it'll keep away that monster…_ she thought. Names had power. A name that could induce fear in the heart of others was something rare. If you were afraid of the name, fear of the thing itself was only to be expected. She wondered if such things worked on monsters as well as humans.

"So we have decided to name this place Hogwarts?" Salazar asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"Don't have a better name," Godric said reluctantly. "We might as well."

Rowena nodded, her smile very bright in the firelight. "I agree. We need a borderline, though."

"What do you mean borderline?" Godric asked in puzzlement.

"We need to stretch an imaginary line that will mark that everything within that line is ours and that anyone who enters inside against our will shall be accordingly punished."

"You mean that everyone crossing it without permission will be subjected to our rule?"

"Approximately, yes. It's a way to keep the Council away. We need to set defences around the perimeter we want to call our own."

"What sort of defences?" Salazar asked. "We could probably set hexes, jinxes and location-induced curses, but that's about it, isn't it?"

"That's what I had in mind," Rowena conceded. "It should be enough for now."

"What will mark our border?" Godric asked. "We cannot just assume that people will _know_ where our borders lie, now can we?"

The four lapsed into thoughtful silence. Helga looked around her. What could be used as a marker? Stones were always a favourite back home. People used to put a few boulders on the edges of their fields to mark the land as their own. But was it done here? She did not know.

Rowena seemed to think along the same lines, for she said "Well, logically, the nearest place people from the village reach is where that last hill ends and the gentle slope begins - that's what Lady Gryffindor said. No one comes from the other direction due to the rocks and the forest, so what I think we should do, is simply put a large rock or a couple of stones in plain sight of the top of the hill - that is what people at the Valley do."

"A rock seems too random," Salazar said, shaking his head. "Something more… impressive should do, though."

"A bigger rock?" Rowena suggested.

"A pillar," Godric said determinedly. "A bloody great stone pillar."

"_Two_ pillars," Salazar said in excitement. "That way, if we decide we want a gate, we can always use them as gateposts."

Helga liked the idea, but she had an even better idea. "We need something to frighten them off," she said softly. "Something that will show them that they ought to be afraid to go through the pillars."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I know what frightens _me_," she said with a slight shudder. "Let's put the pigs on top of the pillars."

"Pigs?" Rowena asked. "What pigs?"

"Those statues. They _are_ pigs, aren't they?" Helga asked with an innocent smile.

Rowena gritted her teeth, but said nothing.

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They laboured over the two pillars for a week.

First they had to carve out two large portions of rock from the nearby hill's face. They worked in shifts, when at all times two of them worked on the separate lumps. Then, when they finally had them, they had to fashion the pieces of rock into the shape of round columns.

This mission took a lot of strength out of them since rock was not the easiest material to work with. By the end of each day they all collapsed near the fire and fell asleep almost immediately. The bright side of this intense work was that Helga realized that there was no monster, or at least she _convinced_ herself that there was no monster. After all, if it existed, it would probably have attacked them before.

On the sixth day, when it was Rowena's and Godric's turn to do the carving, Helga walked a little ways away from the place where Salazar collapsed and started snoring. She barely had the strength to stand, much less to walk.

"Helga!" someone cried as they caught her when she stumbled and nearly fell flat on her face. "Are you all right?"

Helga looked up. Ceridwen Gryffindor gave her a worried look and helped her sit down.

"What are you children doing?" the older woman asked. "I've been watching you for a while now."

Helga explained what they were doing, and was surprised to see Lady Gryffindor's expression of disgust.

"And what about a permanent place to stay in?" Lady Gryffindor demanded.

"Permanent place…?"

"That's right! What had my son been _thinking_? The winter is almost here. You can't simply stay in the ruins!"

"Well, it's not like we can build a house or something," Helga said defensively. "We have nothing to work with aside of rock and more rock with a bit of stone on the side."

"You don't, do you?" Lady Gryffindor said with a strange glint in her eyes. "We will see about that. Tell my son that I have stopped by. I shall see you again soon enough. Good day, Helga."

And with that the woman was gone, leaving a very puzzled Helga Hufflepuff behind.

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"Up! Up! No! Godric - left! Your _other_ left! Yes! _My_ left! Helga - move!"

Helga darted aside as the huge stone pillar tottered dangerously overhead. Godric and Salazar were desperately trying to settle it in place next to its twin.

Rowena, who was standing a small distance away, shouting orders and directions, waved her over.

"I swear," she told Helga when she reached her. "These two have no sense of direction whatsoever. Salazar was nearly crushed two times already - never mind the damage it would cause the other one were it to bump into it."

"Then why don't you do it?" Helga asked curiously. "You're good at these things, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. But isn't it much more fun watching them sweating and cursing and trying to work it out? It took them two hours to put up the first one - I'm trying to see whether they can do the second one in less. They are so incompetent that it frightens me," She smirked. "_Salazar! Stop whirling your wand like that!_ Right! Right, I say!"

Helga laughed. "Do you want me to help them?"

"No. They will only get in your way, really. Let them have their fun."

"You have a cruel streak in you, Rowena Ravenclaw."

"I kno - Up!"

Helga settled on the ground next to her friend. Rowena was right. It was a lovely early autumn morning, and seeing the two men struggling with a gigantic carved stone pillar was indeed very amusing. Godric and Salazar attempted righting the column according to Rowena's orders, one of them at either side. All they have managed to do was push it from one side to the other like a seesaw.

The men were sweaty and tired, and could have given Rowena a run for her money with their profanities.

In the end, it took them the better part of an hour and a half to position the second pillar in place. When they finally stood in front of the two columns, their bare torsos gleaming with sweat, Rowena came to stand next to them and observe their achievement.

"This one's still a little crooked," she said critically, and with a flick of her wand righted the offending stone.

It was all Helga could do to keep from laughing at the two men's expressions. "Why don't you simply accept it that Charms are Rowena's specialty?" she asked with a mock sigh. "You two have a lot to learn… Come on, Rowena, there is work to be done."

With a gleeful grin she took Rowena's arm and pulled her after her, leaving the other two gaping behind them.

Godric and Salazar did not speak with either woman during that day.

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The next morning, having put the pillars in place, the four friends decided it was time for the next stage of the operation.

Early morning found them walking back from their temporary camp to the location of the pillars. Rowena and Salazar were up ahead, levitating the two warthog statues in front of them, while Helga and Godric dragged behind, speaking softly to each other.

"You know," she said. "When I grew up I always said that Caerwyn Valley is the most beautiful of places in the world and that even if I went away from it I will never find a prettier place. I think this place proves me wrong."

"I know what you mean," he said. "But I always thought _this_ was the most beautiful place in the world. You see other places, Helga, and the other places are always more beautiful than where you are coming from. They certainly have more beautiful women there."

At first she thought he meant to compliment her - which he had, whether he meant it or not - but then she caught the direction of his glance. He was staring unabashedly at Rowena.

Or rather at the things that moved inside Rowena's dress as she walked.

"Godric!" Helga hissed, punching him non-too-lightly.

"What?" he asked, sounding like a man waking from a dream. "I wasn't doing anything."

"Oh, yes you were! We were talking about beautiful places and then you went ahead and stared at Rowena's a-!" she did not get to complete her sentence, for he abruptly covered her mouth with his hand.

"Hush, now, girl. You haven't seen anything, so don't go yelling about it where anybody could hear."

He then let go, but she looked at him with a smirk. "So it's true. You _like_ her."

"Don't speak nonsense, Helga. Where were we? Ah, yes. Beautiful landscapes. Did I tell you about that time when Salazar and I were sent to Ireland? It has the-"

Helga stopped listening to what Godric was saying. Getting back to their original subject, she did not care hearing about Ireland. She was content being at the Loch.

Even with the ruins lying just next to the shore, the Loch, and the basin within it lay, had a quality that kept her gazing it for hours on end. It put some sort of enchantment on her with its blue water and the dark, misty forest just behind it…

"What's this?" Godric's voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts, its tone surprised.

"What's what?" she asked, not seeing anything unusual in the scenery.

"_That_," He pointed.

She followed the direction he pointed at. There, between the newly erected pillars, stood a cart. It was piled high with a various number of objects, unidentified from that distance.

"Rowena! Salazar!" he raised his voice. "Hold up, will you? There's something between the stones and I think Helga and I had better check it before you carry those things all the way there."

He then motioned Helga to follow him, which she did, albeit reluctantly.

It looked like a perfectly ordinary cart, piled high with-

"Vegetables," Helga said incredulously. "Fruits, couple loaves of bread - rather fresh by the look of it."

"A good chunk of pork. Two chickens," Godric countered.

"Dead chickens?"

"Living ones, in cages. I think they are for eggs."

"Oh. A few woolen blankets. Three chipped plates. A box full of nails."

"Dried garlic. A hammer. Couple of onions."

"A lump of sugar. Two bags of flour. Where did all this come from?" Helga demanded. The entire cart was filled with food supplies and household items.

"I have no idea. Maybe there's some sort of note? Can you see anything? I find it hard to believe that someone just conveniently left a stacked cart like this in a place where we can find it."

"You mean this?" Rowena said tersely, holding up a rolled up piece of parchment. "You two certainly took your time."

Helga looked up. The two statues were brought while Godric and she had done their stock list. "Sorry, Raven," She muttered. "What does the note say?"

"'_Dear Godric and friends, a gift from those who support you through thick and thin. May it help you in building your new home. C._' I reckon this is your mother's doing, Godric. She has us well-stocked for the next month or so."

Helga watched her friend as she resolutely dropped the note back among the other things on the cart and rubbed her hands together.

"Right, then. Shall we get to work?"

Helga rolled her eyes. Rowena was just too impatient.

Raising the statues to the tops of the pillars proved to be a tricky mission. At first Rowena tried levitating them by herself, but she could not both levitate it _and_ direct it to the right place. At that point, the others had to come over and assist her.

While Rowena levitated the statue, Godric stood where she had stood the day before, shouting instructions, while Salazar deftly directed the statues right and left until they were in place. Then, after they were done, Helga had to rush forward and cast the spell that would permanently attach statue and pillar together.

When they were done and stepped back to observe the fruit of their labour, Helga looked up at it and frowned. "I don't know," she said. "There's something… it's not quite right, is it? Something's missing."

The other three looked up, glancing this way and that, trying to see what was wrong with what they had done.

"I know," Salazar said. "It seems… slightly unbalanced, doesn't it, Helga? How about a pair of-" he fell silent and pointed his wand upwards, his eyes fixed to the warthogs above.

Helga watched in fascination as Salazar worked his magic. It started with a small bubbling on the surface of the two statues. They bubbled as though they were on fire inside, growing blisters and sores in addition to their warts. The stony exterior on the region of their shoulders jerked and moved. To Helga it seemed like something was trying to erupt from underneath.

The bubbling flowed up from all parts of the statues and concentrated in two centers, just above the shoulder blades of each hog.

Something burst through the stone - two long poles. The hogs now looked as though someone had speared them.

The spear-like poles stopped growing, and with an elaborate flick of Salazar's wand, they began to unfold.

"-wings?" Salazar finished softly.

Godric looked at his friend with a wide grin. "Welcome to Hogwarts Castle, my friends. What say you? Shall we put a big sign saying 'Stay Out' in front of our gates?"

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Now that they had all the household items Lady Gryffindor and whoever else was involved in the matter had sent, the four friends started working on their new home, as the Lady had quite bluntly suggested in her note.

One morning the two men disappeared into the forest and returned with a load of newly-cut lumber and quite a few scratched and bloody marks.

"You had better not go into the forest alone," Godric warned the women, wincing as Helga tended a rather nasty looking cut along his forearm. "There are quite a few unidentified beasts there, and I don't think it's quite safe for us to go without at least another person."

They decided they should also start clearing some of the rubble in the fort just so they can make a head start on it before the rains came. After all, the house they were building was only for a while. Their grand plan was to rebuild the old fort and make it more magnificent than it had ever been. They would not have done so, however, had help not arrived a few days later.

"Dahlia!" Salazar called delightedly when his sister arrived with her three children and towing a very reluctant husband behind.

"Hello, Salazar, Bran and I came to help - Ceridwen said you may need it. What can we do?"

That was how Helga found herself in charge of keeping an eye on the little Rhiannon while Shane and Warwick helped their father hammer nails into planks. Dahlia was carefully refining the planks into their final shape, since she could do it so much better than Helga, whose talents lay elsewhere.

Helga herself, while keeping one eye on Rhiannon, went to help Godric clear the ruins.

The two were busily moving piles of stonework to the edge of the fort when she heard Godric shout something in alarm. She turned and realized that Rhiannon was no longer by her side.

"Watch out!" Helga screamed, noticing where the girl was. "Rhiannon! Get out of the way!"

The little girl stopped in her tracks and stared at her with wide, innocent eyes.

Helga sighed. Why had Dahlia asked her to keep an eye on this child? This was getting ridiculous. Rhiannon had the curiosity of a cat and the self-preservation of a chicken. She just _had_ to check everything for herself.

"Helga! Take that girl out of here!" Godric roared from where he was trying to move a large pile of collapsed archway. "She was nearly crushed by that last stone!"

"Sorry!" she shouted back. "I'll keep an eye on her!"

"No!" he said angrily. "Get her out of here! Go to the house and help Salazar - get Rowena to help me here! This girl is a menace!"

Helga rolled her eyes and firmly took hold of Rhiannon's arm. "You, my girl, are one troublesome chick, did you know that? We need to go and find your mother."

The house was coming along nicely. The men brought a fresh pile of lumber from the forest the day before and they already had the privy dug and built a little ways away from the designated area for the vegetable patch. They also had a wall ready and were working on finishing the second one. It definitely looked like Bran's and Dahlia's help was invaluable.

When they arrived at the location, Helga smiled at Dahlia, who was standing on the shore of the lake, washing her hands and gave Bran a curt nod as they passed him, but she failed to see Rowena and Salazar.

"Where is Uncle Salazar?" Rhiannon asked in a small voice.

"I don't know-" Helga started saying but then heard a shrill cry soon followed by a loud string of foul words. She winced. Rowena was not in a very good mood.

She then heard Salazar trying to get _himself_ heard above Rowena's curses.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! If you will just-"

"Get away from me!" Rowena's voice cried piercingly. "You've done enough damage already!"

No longer amused, Helga hurried to the back of the house, closely followed by Bran and Dahlia.

"What happened?" she demanded, letting go of Rhiannon's hand as she realized Rowena's hand was bleeding profusely.

"This stupid-" here Rowena uttered a selected chain of her best profanities, "-hammered a _nail_ through my hand!"

Helga took one look at the gaping wound beneath the once-white handkerchief Rowena held around her hand and gritted "Keep and eye on your niece, you big lump - and don't you _dare_ doing anything to her - even if it's by mistake. Just go! Take her away! Dahlia, could you please get me a pail of water?" She then examined Rowena's hand more closely, oblivious to Salazar's weak protests. "You've got a hole through and through," she commented clinically.

"Did you think for just one moment," Rowena growled. "That _I don't know that?!_" Those last words were uttered in an ear-splitting roar.

"Touchy…" Helga muttered and redoubled her grip on Rowena's wrist. "This may sting a little."

She pointed the tip of her wand to the gaping wound.

Less than five minutes later Godric came, running at top speed from the direction of the ruins.

"What is it?" he demanded upon arriving, his face pale and worried. "Are we being attacked? I heard Rowena scream - is she all right?"

"I was not _screaming_," the woman in question huffed.

"Then who did?"

"Rowena," Dahlia said dryly, wiping the blood from Rowena's hand. "Salazar nailed her hand. We needed to have it fixed."

"Let me see!" Godric cried, pulling Rowena's hand to him. "It doesn't _look_ too bad."

Rowena pulled her hand back indignantly. "It was a hole. Helga had it fixed. Now go back to work!"

Godric's shoulders slumped and he turned back, walking slowly towards the fort. Helga whirled on her friend, ready to reprimand her for hurting his feelings, but the expression of dismay already on Rowena's face stopped her short.

"Godric - wait!" Rowena cried. "I'll come with you. I'm not trusting Salazar anymore today."

Helga watched her as she practically ran to catch up with the retreating Godric. A smirk spread on the young woman's face.

"Quite the couple, aren't they?" she said, casting a sidelong glance to Dahlia.

The other woman grinned.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Winter was already in the air. Helga could smell it. She hoped they would be able to finish the house by the time the first serious rains will arrive.

They had all the walls standing by the time they got around to actually discuss the idea of teaching. It started out as a completely normal discussion concerning their best fields in magic, but slowly turned into a very serious conversation.

"Speaking of the various fields," Salazar said, cutting off Rowena who was retorting to something nasty Godric had said. "We really should think of what we want to teach the children who will come here one day. We're going to have to make them ready for whatever they are going to face when they leave us. Muggles are only too happy to exterminate us, so we need to help them protect themselves."

"Phoenix lore," Godric replied immediately. "It's the best thing they can learn."

Salazar nodded. "You're probably right. Potions?"

"Definitely," Rowena said. "They can be concealed as homemade medicine. Charms?"

"Very useful - and definitely _your_ field. Helga?"

"Most magic tomes are written in the North Tribes Runes. We should teach them those Runes, should we not?"

"Quite right. Herb lore? It goes well with Potions. I can do them both."

"Interpretation of the sky," Godric offered. "I always found that useful when I needed a special potion or a complicated spell."

"Handling of magic-inclined beasts," Rowena said with finality. "The lake and the forest are crawling with those things. I don't want them to wonder off and get killed."

"Transfiguring objects," Helga added. "Really helpful."

"Can't it be considered as part of Charms?" Godric asked. "It's akin, isn't it?"

"Not so!" Rowena sounded horrified. "It's a completely different technique! How could you even _think_ that?"

"Merlin! You are always so touchy about your expertise! Will you calm down for once?"

"I'm calm! I'm always calm!"

"Shall we call it a night?" Helga whispered to Salazar. "This can take ages."

"I know," he grimaced. "We need to do something about this pair. Care to help me get them on… let's call it _friendlier_ terms?"

Helga smiled. "Count me in."

**A/N:** And we have _another_ completed chapter! Please review and tell me what you think! I love your reviews and receiving your opinions over things.

**To all my lovely reviewers:**

**Moonlight on the Water:** Thank you! Heh, I just _love_ Rowena/Godric… glad you do, too. Well, Rhiannon's a lovely name. When I saw it I _knew_ that had to be Dahlia's daughter's name. She will appear quite a bit in the story, but I'm not going to tell you why – might ruin the plot! ;)

**Wicked.Awsome:** I really hope you think this chapter's up to standard as well. Thank you for all your compliments :D

**Jackie G: **Thank you…

**Lady Slone of Snow Mt:** Thank you very much! I'm sorry it took this long to : Thanks! Here's more for you!

**Shadow-n-the-dark:** Thanks you so much :) I'm sorry that there is no real monster, but again, I ask – would you like one?

**XxXbloody nekoXxX:** Heh, I'm still not too sure about that Helga/Salazar bit, but if a lot of people want it, then I'd be only too happy to comply their wishes. Thanks for your review!

**Da-drama-queen:** thanks!

**JakKat:** 30 chapters plus Prologue plus Epilogue – and it's final – the plan is ready! Thank you!

**Eratosthenese:** ((blushes)) your compliments really make my day, you know that? :D

**TheWildMage:** Godric/Rowena is a favourite of mine, I'm glad you like it. Thank you so much for your review!

**Rhysenn Riddle:** It _does_ look like a lot of people want Salazar/Helga action ((goes back to planning the rest of the story)) looks like I can put it in! ((grins)) Thanks!

**Chenelle:** Thank you very much! I would like to thank you again for my Christmas present chapter – it was so lovely! No monster, I'm afraid…

**Roe Merrifield:** Yep, that's the site I'm using, too. It's great, isn't it? A linguist can be a great job, in my opinion. If it really interest you, then you probably should do it.

**Angelsword:** Well, at this point Helga is about 19 – rather young, but I'm glad you like her description. Was this Helga chapter good enough for you? Any constructive criticism is welcome! Thanks for reviewing!

**Carmabelle:** Here's more!!! ((grins and sends chapter your way)) Thank you!

**Kurleyhawk2:** I rather like Ceridwen myself ;) Happy you've enjoyed the story up to here!

**Well, this is it for now. I apologize for the somewhat short answers this time, but my first NEWT-like exam is in two weeks' time – that is also the reason behind my lateness in posting this chapter. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and have a happy (if belated) 2005!**

**-Star of the North**


	13. A Year of Schooling

**A/N:** Dear Merlin, I've reached over a hundred reviews! ((gasps))

I haven't got enough words to thank you all for this! I do believe, however, that I owe you an apology. The math final, which I had dreaded so much, passed over a week ago, but I was rather depressed along this week for various reasons, and simply did not have the will to write. I'm sorry for that.

I hope this chapter will make it up to you. It's rather generalized, and not very action-packed, but the next one is much better on that aspect (haven't written it as yet, but I have it all planned).

Please do not despair! Enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to tell me what you think.

**Chapter 12 – A Year of Schooling**

_"Lord Ambrosius was not one to let an insult go by unanswered. When the Founders had defied him, shaming and weakening him, he had suffered ridicule from many in the high positions of the Wizarding World. The high pedestal on which he had been sitting ever since being elevated to the position of Chief Warlock was roughly shaken._

_"Being a cunning, bright man, Ambrosius realized that his first mistake was binding Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor to the Council. He also realized that the only way to return all power to his grasp is to terminate the four who had shown him to the world in his weakest state._

_"Soon after the Founders' flight from Stonehenge Ambrosius sent forth more than half of the Chamber Guard. Their only duty was to kill the Founders on sight before they could cause further damage._

_"To block Ambrosius attempts on their lives, the Founders formed an alliance with a variety of groups. Former Knights of the Phoenix, families of those killed because of the Council's inefficiency, members of societies hunted down by the Council - all those and others joined the four Founders of Hogwarts in their resistance. _

_"With this complicated network of allies and spies, the Founders were able to defend themselves and their newly built school…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Godric yawned, his eyelids drooping. It was late evening and he had been trying to teach two fifteen-year-olds the rudimentary rules of Phoenix lore most of the afternoon. The two, the twin sons of Sir Rhys, Berwyn and Goronwy, were cheerful enough lads, but they had the attention span of a fish.

Sir Rhys' four youngest children were the very first students they had, together with Dahlia's Warwick, Rhiannon and Shane. The seven children walked the few miles from the Loch to the ruins each morning, trained and studied from dawn to dusk and then returned home, usually accompanied by one of their teachers.

The four companions never went as far as the village - just close enough to make sure that the children would be all right.

In the few months that had passed since they had decided to name the ruins their home, the place transformed greatly.

Aided by Bran, Dahlia, Ceridwen and Rhys, they had completed the building of their small house. It was a comfortable, if somewhat crammed lodging, big enough for them to have the seven children over almost every day.

"Why isn't he going to bed" he heard someone asking softly.

Rowena. She must have returned from escorting the students back to the Loch.

"He claimed he wasn't tired" Helga replied just as softly.

Rowena snorted. "Not tired? He's falling asleep in his chair. I'll give him not tired."

And then, before he could so much as blink, he felt a hand clutching his shoulder and was roughly shaken.

"Come on, you big lump" Rowena said huffily. "Let's get you to bed."

She hoisted him up and pushed him in the direction of the room he shared with Salazar.

"And don't let me catch you out of bed before dawn" she ordered.

Godric stumbled into his room and fell face-first on his bed. He was asleep almost before he hit it.

-

Morning came only too early. The bright glare of sun's first rays made Godric blink furiously. On the other roughly-made bed, Salazar was still snoring. It was the women's day to teach, so they had a few more hours of laziness ahead of them before they had to go up to the ruins and go on rebuilding.

The task of rebuilding the fort was more tiring than they had expected, and the fact that winter only now let go of the land made their work slower than it should have been. Still, in the few weeks that had passed since spring came back with its bright thin showers, they had managed clearing all the rubble from the main entrance to the fort and already started constructing the front of the building.

They took it in turns to build. One day the men would build and the women teach, and the next it was the other way around.

Salazar had made the initial plans of the rebuilt fort. On his drawing board the ruins of Cormag's fort became almost a fairytale castle, with tall towers and waving flags, grand staircases and huge front doors.

However, Godric ruefully thought, plans aside and reality in front. The ruins still looked pretty much like a pile of old stones to him.

Almost reluctantly, he pulled himself out of bed. Someone had covered him during the night. It happened often these days.

From outside he heard children shrieking in delight. Apparently morning dawned clear, and the women had decided to teach outside.

"Salazar" he shook his friend awake. "Get up. It's time to get going."

When they were finally both up and awake, the two drifted to the kitchen where some good soul, most likely Helga, had left them a modest breakfast. Having nourished themselves, they picked up their wands and left for their morning's work.

"You know" Godric mused as he levitated a huge block of stone into place after applying a sticking charm to it. "I've been thinking. Is it just me, or are we always the ones stuck with the manual works? Correct me if I'm wrong, but when last the girls worked on the castle, all they did was to mend the fractured flagstones and replace the ones that were beyond repair. How is it that we let them get away with it"

"Quite simple" Salazar grunted, concentrating on the charm that will allow him to build an arch. "They're women. They wrap us around their little fingers and we follow willingly. I thought you knew that."

"Very funny" Godric said sourly and levitated another block.

Around noon, when Godric felt he was close to collapsing, beads of sweat dotting his face and bare torso, Helga, Rowena and the children came by with the lunch basket, and they all sat down amongst the fallen stones to eat.

"You're making good progress" said Helga earnestly, handing out salted ham. "I do believe that we will have the entrance chamber ready by the beginning of summer."

Godric groaned loudly. "That's too long" he whined. "My back and shoulders ache so much"

"Oh, you big baby" Rowena scolded. She put down her slice of bread and went to sit behind him and, much to everyone's surprise, started rubbing his back expertly.

"Aunt Helga" Rhiannon asked timidly. "What is Aunt Rowena doing"

Dahlia's daughter had taken to calling both women _aunt_, and being the only girl among the seven students, they let her get away with it.

Helga chuckled in a way that made Godric grow red in the face. "Well, Rhiannon" she said. "I _do_ believe that she's voluntarily touching Godric. Are you feeling well, Raven"

"Close your mouth, Helga" Rowena growled. "Don't fill the girl's head with nonsense."

"Of course, Raven. Whatever you say."

Godric was torn. On one hand, he could not shake the feeling that Rowena was doing this because of some perverted trick she planned, but on the other hand, he enjoyed her touch. Her rather small, delicate fingers left trails of fire down his back. He was not sure if this was quite healthy.

"There you go" she finally said after a little while, letting go. "Come, Helga, children. It's time to resume school."

As the small group left in the direction of the house, Godric's eyes followed them, focusing in particular on the auburn-haired woman leading. Behind him, he could practically _hear_ Salazar's smirk.

"What do you want" he demanded harshly, picking up his wand again.

"You _like_ her, don't you" his friend asked, his voice brimming with amusement.

"What _is_ it with you all" he asked angrily. "I don't like Rowena. She's annoying me. She's one of the most stubborn women I have ever met - _and_ she hates me."

He hoped this would shut Salazar up. He had had enough trouble figuring out what Rowena was to him without Salazar and Helga putting ideas in his head.

And that was the problem, really. All the doubts and the uncertainty of the past few months only started when the two began suggesting that he may have feelings for her. Up until then he was quite sure of his dislike concerning her.

-

"Where's Helga" Salazar asked in concern one evening when he and Godric returned from the ruins after a day's hard work.

"Escorting the children back to the village" Rowena replied, giving him a peculiar glance from the kitchen's door.

"Oh" he said in relief. Then he added "Shouldn't she be back by now"

"What is it, Salazar? She's only been gone for half an hour. You know that she's perfectly safe as long as she keeps out of view and alert."

"I'm simply worried about her, that's all."

_Worried, Salazar?_ Godric thought to himself. _Why are you suddenly so concerned about Helga's safety?_

In the past month or two, it seemed to him that there was a strange sort of understanding between his two companions. They would talk for hours on end over things that appeared to be quite insignificant. They would sit together during the evenings and were simply comfortable that way without even saying a word. He did not think that it was more serious than simple friendship, but perhaps…

Perhaps Salazar _wanted_ it to be more serious? Godric really needed to talk with Rowena about it - hear what she thought of the matter.

The front door opened with a creak. He winced. They should have adjusted that door a long time ago. Helga entered the main room with a strangely thoughtful expression on her face.

"There's a new family in the Loch" she announced. "Rhiannon's been telling me. She speaks of little else. She had been telling me about them all afternoon long and did not stop until I left them at the Loch."

"Haven't you got anything better to do than gossiping" Rowena demanded rather primly, though Godric could hear interest in her voice.

During the winter months, when they had nothing better to do on late evening but to talk and plan, he learned how to discern the underlining meaning in whatever she said. Rowena was perhaps one of the most fascinating people he had ever met. He could watch and listen to her for hours and not grow tired of what he saw and heard.

"Weren't you supposed to be teaching her how to read" Rowena continued.

"I did" Helga said defensively. "She's getting along nicely. But she's still a little girl - she can't concentrate for hours at a time like you can."

"_I_ never used to have problems sitting"

"Oh, stop it, Rowena" Godric said almost casually, preparing himself for her retort. "You're just as interested in this family as Helga is. So who are these people"

"A man, his wife, and their three children" Helga hurried along before Rowena could snap back. "The eldest is seventeen, the next one is sixteen and the youngest is fourteen. Their arrival was very… unexpected, to say the least. When I tried to ask Shane about it on our way back to the village he said something that made me think."

"Oh"

"He said that the one showing the family around was… your mother."

"My mother" Godric was surprised. As far as he knew, his mother was not a very active member of the community. Not since his father's death, anyway.

"I know. I found it surprising as well. But there's something more."

"Yes"

"Another two families are one the way - all with children."

Silence spread in the small house.

"We need to have a word with Ceridwen, Godric" Salazar finally said, putting down the book he picked up only moments before. "She's doing something out in the wide world, and as we're cut off from it…"

"You think she's planning something"

"I would think it quite obvious" Salazar said with a smile. "I remember that your mother used to be very active in the days before your father's death. She was a prominent member of some of the highest circles of society, wasn't she? She used to organize many meetings for the wives of the Knights, as I recall. Perhaps she's stirring up trouble for our sake? She certainly has the connections. Either way, we must know."

"I'll go there tonight" Godric said. "Have a quiet word with her."

"Godric" Rowena protested. "You can't! It's too dangerous! Why can't it wait till she comes here three days from now"

He looked up at her, surprised. Were his ears deceiving him, or did he earnestly hear a note of concern in her voice?

"We haven't got the time, Rowena" Salazar came to his aid. "If Ceridwen's doing something, we had better know what it is as soon as we can."

"But what if he gets caught" she demanded. "You know fully well that Ambrosius had given orders to kill us on sight"

"I won't get caught" Godric began, hurt that she thought him so irresponsible.

"How can you be so sure"

"I can't, all right? I can't. But we must talk with my mother, and I _am_ going. Whether you like it or not."

"You are a selfish bastard, Godric Gryffindor" she hissed angrily and stormed off, a worried Helga right behind her.

-

"Mother! Let me in" Godric hissed, knocking on Sir Rhys' door as softly as he could. Night had fallen, and he had sneaked to the Loch in order to have a quiet word with his mother.

"Mother! This is urgent"

The door opened so quickly that he lost his footing and fell headfirst into the house. The door shut closed behind him as he pulled himself up gingerly.

"What kind of a fool _are _you, boy" his mother hissed as she motioned Sion's wife, Lleulu, to go back to bed. "Coming here in the dead of night! What if you would have been spotted"

"Then I would have fought and escaped, Mother" he said coolly, not believing that both his mother and Rowena would question is ability to take care of himself. "What are you playing at"

"Me" she asked, putting on an innocent face, all anger washed off.

"Don't give me that" he snapped. "The children talked about new families in the village. We want to know what's going on."

She gazed at him in silence for a few oppressive moments. Then she sighed. "You'd better come into the kitchen, then. You have interrupted us in the middle of a meeting and I had to pull Lleulu out of bed. Honestly, I thought it would be a relief to hand the keys over to her, but it proves out to be a nuisance."

Bemused, he followed her into the large, dimly lit kitchen. There, on benches and kitchen chairs sat eight men, chatting to Sir Rhys. Their ages varied from no more than a few years older than him to middle-years.

"Gentlemen" his mother said. "This is my son, Godric. Some of you knew him when he was just a wee lad, but most of you never met him."

"He looks very much like Gawain" one of the younger men said, smiling. "I could never mistake him for someone else."

"Godric" she continues firmly. "You probably don't remember any of these men. These are Sir Eallair, Sir Brendan, Sir Jared, Sir Reynard, Sir Deiniol, Sir Gwilym, Sir Hallsteinn and Sir Alban. They used to be members of the Order of the Knights of the Phoenix. They all worked with your father and with Raven Lord. Get used to having them around, because they and their families are going to be slowly drifting to the Loch over the next couple of months. I expect that by the time you start the new school year you will have about twelve to twenty more children under your care. Isn't that what you wanted"

"Well" he said hesitantly. "Yes, it was, but why are you doing this, Mother? We could have done this ourselves."

"No" she said." You couldn't have. You haven't got the connections, dear. And besides, this goes a bit farther than simply bringing you more students. Aren't you forgetting the reason _behind_ founding this school of yours"

"Of course not" he scoffed. "It's all a part of our struggle against Ambrosius. Did you think that we had forgotten it"

"Then these men are the start of the resistance" she said with a smile.

"Resistance"

"You can't do this by yourselves, Godric. Ambrosius has the whole might of the Wizarding World behind him. The four of you are immensely strong, but you're not that strong. And furthermore, you will need support. Many of the community despise Ambrosius and the Council and would happily aid your cause. These men are your best allies."

He looked at the eight men critically. They were all fit of body, but that was no indication to their magical resources. However, as they had all been Knights in their past, their experience could prove invaluable.

"We need to talk it over with the others" he finally said. "I can't be the one to make the decisions. Not by myself, anyway. Can the lot of you come to the ruins tomorrow night so we can discuss this in full"

-

They were all gathered in the main room of the house the next evening.

To Godric's surprise, the eight former Knights were not the only ones to have arrived together with his mother. Dahlia and Bran were there, as were Sir Rhys, his three elder sons, Sion, Padrig and Ilar, a man introduced to them as Eanraig, the village smith, two burly brothers called Wallace and Tasgall, and a rather quiet man and his wife, Lachlan and Moira.

"What is going on here" Salazar demanded. "I thought you said they were only eight"

"Apparently plans had changed" Godric said helplessly. "Mother"

"These people wish to have their children under your care" his mother verified, smiling encouragingly at the newcomers. "They asked to meet you and settle accounts."

"Accounts"

"What will you take in return for teaching their children."

The four friends glanced at each other, all at a loss.

"We'll be right back" Rowena said firmly. "Come. We will discuss this in privacy."

They stepped into the kitchen, and she cast a silencing charm of sorts of the door.

"We never really thought this over, did we" she said in a troubled voice.

"Naturally we can't give our services for free" Salazar said, frowning. "No one will take us seriously if we will. They will all look at us as some sort of convenience, and that defeats our original purpose. We want people to help us, not overlook us."

"But what will we take" Helga demanded. "We said we'd take _any_ child of magical heritage, and some of these people haven't got the resources to pay a standardized sum."

"And what need have we in money" Rowena said. "We're stuck here without means to leave if we wish to keep our lives, and anyway, we grow our own food now and have all we need."

"But we _do_ need help, however" Salazar said, his face lighting up all of a sudden. "We need help rebuilding the fort, and later on we will need furniture and ornaments. Maybe we should ask first for help in building - that will be our fee till we have completed the Castle. After we complete the building, we can ask for furniture or cutlery, or anything else for that matter. It doesn't have to be something extensive - just enough so the families will feel they are not getting this for free."

"So whatever they give, we take" Godric clarified.

"It seems to be the best course of action in my opinion. That way we will both have allies _and_ a furnished castle. What do you think"

When they returned to the main room they explained their guests their decision, and once that was out of the way, they went back to business.

All in all, Godric's mother managed to contact twenty former Knights. The eight that were sitting with them that evening had already decided to uproot their families and move to the Loch, where they will be both near the center of operations and would be able to give their children a proper education.

Six others already told Ceridwen that they would send their children over - if boarding could be arranged.

The rest did not return her communications as yet, so she had no idea what they thought of the idea.

"I suppose we could build an extra room in the house" Salazar said dubiously. "This would provide boarding to those children whose families are not going to move to the Loch."

"And once we have the Castle built" Helga said brightly"we can construct rooms within it and make it so that all students will live in it. Wouldn't that be wonderful"

Concerning the matter of Ambrosius, they had all agreed that they needed a wider support. Their first action, so it had been decided, was to approach the whole village with the idea.

"Some might argue and want to give you and all your supporters to the lawmen and though them to the Council" Ceridwen said. "But in the past few months I've perceived that many of the community are really unhappy with Ambrosius' manhunt. I think most will listen and silence those who will not."

They had all agreed on meeting again once the year of schooling would be over, because then all eight families would be living in the Loch and could come to the house on a more regular basis.

-

As the year progressed, so did the building of the Castle. With the invaluable help of the families of the students, they have soon completed a major part of the building's frame.

The main entrance was built, as were three towers and a large hall to one side of the entrance space, right of where the entrance doors would be once installed. They had also discovered that beneath one of the piles of rubble was an opening that led down into an extensive set of dungeons.

By the time summer rolled in, all the towers Salazar had planned were complete, though they lacked some staircases and roofs. The four friends hoped that during the summer, when they planned on leaving the children home so they could help their families during the time of harvest and other more productive occupations, they would finally complete the whole frame and start working on the inside. It was a lot to achieve, but they had decided a long time before then that they should not let the building project take more than two years. They had more important things to accomplish, and Ambrosius' men hunting for them did not make it easy.

-

"Here's for one year of schooling gone well" Godric said cheerfully, dropping into a chair, holding up a keg. It had been his turn to return the children home on that last day of studies before they were released for the summer. The parent who met him to take the children off his hands was Eanraig, the smith. The older man had a surprise waiting for him. An end of year present, he said.

"Oh, you're back" Rowena said emotionlessly, putting fresh, sliced bread on the dinner table. "What's in the keg"

"An end of year treat from Eanraig the smith. Says he thinks we deserve some treating after four months of teaching that son of his. Finest ale of the finest vintage, I'd wager."

"You can drink as much as you like - _after_ dinner."

"Oh, come _on_, Rowena! We've completed a whole year without having Ambrosius eradicate us! Let's celebrate"

"I won't have you spoiling your dinner."

"What are you, my mother" he whined, but put the keg aside.

As Rowena turned back to the kitchen, Salazar smirked at him. "Making progress, are we" he whispered. "She has you wrapped around her little finger."

"I don't know what you're talking about" Godric said sourly, casting longing glances at the rather lonesome keg.

"You don't" Salazar said slyly. "Then I dare you to pick that keg and take a big swig out of it."

"I _will_" Godric hissed. "Just to show you"

He reached to grasp the polished wood. His fingers barely scraped the carrier handle when from the kitchen came Rowena's voice, sharp as a whip. "Godric Gryffindor - if you lay so much as one finger on that ale, I'll feed you grass for the rest of your life."

Godric's shoulders slumped and he leaned back in his seat.

"I believe you just proved me right, Godric my lad" Salazar smirked.

Godric sulked through most of dinner. He knew he was being ridiculous, but that was not reason enough for him to stop it.

When they finally had everything clean and tidy again, he planted himself in front of Rowena.

"Now that we've eaten, can we _please_ open the keg" he begged, casting pleading eyes down at her.

"Well" she said slowly. "I don't know. What do you think, Helga"

The other woman tried to assume a thoughtful expression, but soon burst out laughing. "Oh, let him, Raven. I can't face those kicked-dog eyes of his."

Godric grinned to himself and settled back in his seat, pulling the keg to him.

"Goblets, Godric" Rowena said pointedly. "We use _goblets_ in this household."

With a sigh he got up again. She was so… _proper_ at times.

The kitchen was very tidy - a tidiness Helga-caused. Rowena liked to keep things clean, but tidiness had never been one of her attributes. Her working space could be at best described as chaotic, and after she cooked something in the kitchen the working surfaces would be covered with flour, or pepper, or some kind of liquid that was the only mute evidence to what had come to pass in the room.

He quickly found four goblets and returned to the main room. Once there, he poured generous amounts of ale into each goblet and handed them to his friends.

"I don't drink ale, Godric" Helga protested, pushing the goblet away. "You know that."

"Oh, nonsense, girl! Drink up! It is time to celebrate"

The keg was bigger than Godric had first thought. It certainly seemed to have an endless bottom, for no matter how much he had poured into their goblets, it still had more in store.

He always liked his ale strong - even though Salazar claimed he could not hold his drink properly. Nonsense, in Godric's opinion. He could drink as much as he liked. After all, he had been drinking a lot since dinner ended and he was still conscious.

Helga was humming to herself happily and quite tunelessly. She pushed her goblet his way for a refill, but for some reason a lot of ale seemed to find its way onto the table.

Salazar was staring into space, a rather amusing expression on his face, Godric thought.

Rowena was talking - and talking, and talking. She talked a lot, but he had long since lost track of what exactly it was she was talking about. It did not make a lot of sense, and besides, the ale was calling his name so invitingly…

As a matter of fact, his attention was most neatly divided between two objects - one was the keg of ale, and the other was Rowena's mouth. Her small, perfect mouth, with those red lips…

_Maybe I should kiss her… now that's a thought…_

"…so I was thinking about - are you even listening to me"

"I'm lissstnin'" he mumbled, feeling as though his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He pushed a finger into his mouth in attempt to disengage it.

"-was thinking about teaching Apparation"

"App-what" Helga giggled.

"Apparation" Rowena's voice seemed to come from far away. Was it just him, or did the world suddenly grow hazy?

Rowena went on talking. "Maybe this is not such a good idea"

"'s great ideeeea" Salazar suddenly slurred, waking from his drunken trance.

"No, it's not. You're all roaring drunk"

"'m not drunk" Godric said sullenly, looking up at Rowena. She was so beautiful… her figure was perfect… he wanted nothing better than to wrap her in his arms and…

"No" Rowena said acidly, breaking his line of thought. "You're as sober as sunshine."

"Godricssa sunshine" Helga giggled. "Godricssa sunshine"

The last thing Godric remembered before slipping into happy, drunken oblivion, was Rowena's mortified voice saying "Oh, not you, _too_"

**A/N:** Well? ((waits anxiously)) is this up to standard? Did you find it dull? Did you find it great? Please share your opinions with me - it's very important!

**To my lovely reviewers to whom I owe lots of hugs and thank-yous:**

**Cecilia Orechio:** Oooh! Wonderful to have you back! Heh, I've been asked by quite a few people if it's Hagrid's hut, but unfortunately - it's not. The house should be a little bigger, since it houses four people - not just one. Maybe Hagrid's hut was built on it's ruins. I don't know. I'll let you decide ;)

**Chenelle:** Well, I hope the building of the Castle wasn't too brief. I think I'll leave the monster out - it'll just add another line to the story, and I don't really need that… Thanks! The exam was a final - but the rest are mid-terms and they're _horrible_. I had one today, and it's so annoying… ((grumbles)) Good luck with all your exams, too! Oh, one last thing. About _The Story of Four Friends_? I'm not going to drop the fic. In fact, I'm feeling really guilty about not updating it, so another chapter will probably come along soon - I'll keep you updated.

**Will There Ever Bea Rainbow:** Thank you very much!

**Teenrogue:** I hope this chapter cleared things up a bit concerning Rowena and Godric :) Thank you!

**Eratosthenese:** ((is very happy)) thank you! Sorry for the great delay…

**JakKat:** Well, as I told Cecilia, unless Hagrid's hut had been built on the ruins of the Founders' first house, then no - it isn't… It's simply too big to be that. Thank you so much for your review! I really appreciate your opinion.

**Da-drama-queen: **Thank you - I will :D

**Roe Merrifield:** Why, thank you :) Hope you've enjoyed this chapter just as much!

**Rhysenn Riddle: **Working on it! Thank you!

**Shadow-n-the-dark:** Oh, yes! ((shudders)) those exams are the worst thing ever…thanks!

**Wicked.Awesome:** Hmm… I actually thought that Salazar brought/created the Basilisk later on - I should check on that…thank you!

**Angelsword:** I'm glad you liked the last chapter. Thanks for adding me to your list ((is delighted)) Heh, I always like it when authors reply to my reviews, so it's only fair that I'd do the same. Thank you very much - and don't despair on me! Helga/Salazar _will_ come!

**Moonlight on the Water:** Oh, yes, Rowena is multitalented indeed… she's a bit coarse at times - but that's just the way she is ;) thank you!

**Well, I hope this chapter didn't disappoint you - and if I don't update again by the end of next week, feel free to send me an email and nag me into doing it, because there are times when I'm simply being lazy :)**

**Love you all,**

**- Star of the North**


	14. First Trial

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Well, this chapter's a little shorter than the previous one. I hope you like it all the same. The reviews I got were heartwarming, and I thanks you all greatly.

I know I said I'll update in a week's time, but… well… you know how it is ((stares at feet in embarrassment)) If you detect any typos of some sort, please forgive me. I really wanted to update this before I leave for a couple of days tomorrow morning, and I'm getting tired of sitting in front of the computer…

Well, on with the story, then!

**Chapter 13 – First Trial**

_"After they had completely severed themselves from the Council, the Founders knew it would not be long before some confrontation would take place. It took Ambrosius over a year to locate them, but when he did, he immediately sent his men to take care of the troublesome companions._

_"The man sent to command the operation was one Marcus Gregory, former Knight of the Phoenix. He had great resentment to both Ryan Ravenclaw and Gawain Gryffindor, and he had no problem whatsoever on passing his hatred to their descendents. He had sworn to bring an end to both lines by the means of the Council's command._

_"In almost no time, Gregory had managed tracking down the Founders and discovered their base of operations was at the Loch…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Rowena was irritated. No, worse than that. She was livid. She would be the first to admit that she liked a little bit of good ale at times, but she would also smugly add, that _she_ knew when it was time to stop.

Her three friends, however, seemed to have a remarkable lack of that ability. The three were sprawled on various surfaces of the house's main room, be they chairs, tables or floors.

Luckily enough, as they had dismissed their students for the summer the previous evening, there was no need to go out and teach, but she distinctly remembered that they had agreed upon continuing their rebuilding work that morning, since the weather was so fine.

Her mood was too foul to be considerate of the snoring trio in the house, so Rowena decided it was best if she would simply go outside by herself and get some work done.

As she stepped out of the house and started the walk up to the framework of the castle which perched above the lake like a foreboding bird of prey, she felt her bad humour dissipate. Their castle was getting on beautifully and everything was well, for as Godric had said the previous night, Ambrosius failed to destroy them in the year or so that had passed since they escaped his clutches.

Rowena was no fool. She knew that Ambrosius was aware of their whereabouts. Perhaps he could not as yet pinpoint their exact location, but he knew that they had taken residence in the vicinity of the Loch.

To make things worse, the fact that quite a few former Knights of the Phoenix drifted to the area had made it clear to anyone aware of the situation that the escaped quartet planned something that will not sit well with Ambrosius and his cohorts.

She dreaded what they were planning on doing. Now that all former Knights lived in the Loch there was no reason for them to put off the confrontation with the entirety of the village.

With a heavy sigh, she climbed up to the castle and entered the shadowy doorway. The large hall to the right of the entrance chamber now had a ceiling, but it looked so empty and forlorn. The floor was still covered by dust and rubble, and the overcast sky let no light in. Grumbling to herself, she began levitating the debris on the flagstones out from the hall.

When the others arrived there, sometime after midday, she was done with about a quarter of the hall, and was feeling rather winded.

"There you are!" she snapped, letting her wand arm fall. "Get to work already! I'm not about to clear this whole chamber by myself."

"Will you please keep it down?" Godric winced.

"No!" she exploded. "I will _not_ keep it down. It's your own fault that you're feeling this way! Now get to work before I hex you!"

"But Rowena," Salazar pleaded. "We just woke up - be gentle with us, please."

"Gentle? _Gentle?_ I've been slaving here since morning! I want you all to help me and I want you to help me _now_."

Grumbling and groaning, the three joined her in labour.

About an hour or so later, the four stopped for a bit of rest.

"It's so empty," Rowena voiced her thoughts from earlier on. "And it looks like a block of stone."

"It _is_ a block of stone, Rowena," Helga said, her face still a little pale.

"Yes, but we didn't really try to make it seem prettier. We should have decorated the walls or something along those lines. A bit of stone carving on the supporting arches would do wonders to the ceiling."

"It's too late," Salazar said flatly. "I calculated the weight of the arches precisely. To chisel them now would impair the balance."

"Well, you're the creative mastermind, aren't you?" Helga said cheerfully. "Go to your drawing board, Salazar. Go play with your coloured inks."

"I don't _play_," he replied sourly.

"Of course you don't," she replied generously, winking in Rowena's direction.

"_Women!_" he spat, though Rowena noted that he did exactly what Helga had told him to do.

While Salazar was immersed in his drawing, Rowena pulled her friend aside, away from where Godric was removing the last bits of stone and rubble from the hall.

"What's going on between you and Salazar?" she demanded pointedly.

"Going on?" Helga replied innocently. "There's nothing going on. We're friends."

Rowena snorted. "Don't tell me that, Helga. At least one of you wants this to be more than friendship. You had better decided what you want, because I don't want this interrupting our business here."

"Is the pot calling the kettle black?" Helga asked mockingly.

"What do you mean?" Rowena asked, suddenly alarmed.

"Oh, you know perfectly well what I mean, Raven. I'd do something about this soon, if I were you. But never mind that," the other girl diverted the conversation. "We had better start cleaning the floor before the men start asking why exactly we are doing nothing. Oh, and Godric told me this morning-"

"Noon, you mean?"

"Yes, noon," Helga grimaced. "He told me that Dahlia wanted to have a word with me, so I'll be going to the village after nightfall."

"Have fun - and don't let Rhiannon coax you into spending the night again. It's hard enough for us to sneak in during the night."

"All right, Raven."

They started cleaning the floor, Rowena sprouting water from her wand, and Helga drying it after shoveling the dirty water away.

"Rowena! Helga!" Salazar said, coming towards them. "I've had an idea. Take a look at this and tell me what you think."

The two took the drawing board handed to them and observed the parchment in front of them.

"This will never work, Salazar," Rowena said shaking her head after examining all the scribbling he had drawn. "Paint all weathers on one ceiling and then make sure they correspond with the weather outside? I can't see a way in which we can make it possible."

Salazar sighed, the excited light in his eyes dimming. "Then what you're saying is that these plans are as good as dirt."

"Basically? Yes."

"Back to the drawing board, then?"

"I'm afraid so."

Salazar crumpled the parchment on which he had sketched his plans for the ceiling of the large hall. He then pulled a fresh sheet out of his cloak pocket and continued scribbling furiously. After a few minutes of that, his quill paused in mid-air.

"Rowena?"

"Mmm?" she mumbled, tearing her attention away from sprinkling water into the dirtiest corners of the hall.

"Is there such a thing as a transparency charm?"

She frowned. "Transparency? Well, not precisely, no. There's something that's called a Disillusionment Charm. It's a rather new one, I think. Supposedly it will give anyone it is cast upon chameleon-like qualities - practically let one blend in with one's surroundings. It _is_ some sort of invisibility, or transparency if you'd like. I suppose we could try and modify it to apply to still-life instead of living creatures.

"Let's do it this way," she decided. "You will go on planning your ceiling, and in the meanwhile, I'll go do a bit of research."

"Good," he said. "I was starting to thing that I finally had had an unachievable idea and it was making me more than a little depressed."

-

Rowena always loved a challenge. It was a way to vent out all frustrations. Just close herself to the outside world and concentrate on the problem at hand.

The minute she entered the house that afternoon, she pulled out a couple of books, found a scrap of parchment, a battered quill with its feather chewed through by diligent writers and an almost dried inkwell, and settled down at the kitchen table.

Two hours later she was still there, only with many crumpled or ink-smeared parchments surrounding her and far more books that she had to begin with.

Godric prowled the kitchen around her, searching for something with a gradually darkening expression on his face.

"I'm hungry," he finally whined. "Why isn't there dinner?"

"You're a grown boy, Godric," she said absently, copying a certain paragraph that seemed about right to her. "Feed yourself."

"But - but, _Rowena!_ _You_ are the one always tells me to get away from the kitchen on account of-"

"You being completely inept, yes," she completed. "I'm busy, Godric. Go bother Helga."

"Helga's been invited to Dahlia's remember? Dahlia wanted to have a word with her."

"That's right," she conceded, putting down her quill. Then she brightened. "Go bother Salazar, then. At least he can boil water without burning three pots in the process."

"Salazar is snoring over his drawing board," he informed her sullenly.

With an irritated huff she threw her quill down. "Godric," she said scathingly. "As I have told you repeatedly, I am busy. Eat an apple, drink a cup of milk - I daresay you can still find some in the pot - and go to sleep! It should sustain you till morning."

"You always treat me like a little boy!" he flared. "I'm older than you!"

"Then by Merlin - act it!" she growled. "Go away! Leave me in quiet!"

Angrily, he stomped off, muttering darkly to himself.

Rowena stared after him, somewhat in shock. Then she sighed and buried her face in her hands. _What am I going to _do_ with him?_ She thought mournfully.

Godric puzzled her greatly. She could never quite figure him out. He was intelligent and resourceful, and he could be unbelievingly charming if he really wanted to, but he could also be so… so _childish_. Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to grit her teeth and wring his neck, but many times she wanted to hug him and maybe bring his lips down to hers…

Feeling annoyed, she closed her books, picked up her things and left for bed.

When Helga came back late that night, Rowena pretended to be asleep. She could not bear seeing that smug expression that she just _knew_ would appear on her friend's face.

-

The week after the students were released for the summer the first real council took place. They prearranged it a long time beforehand, and now that they had the great hall roofed, they had room for all those who had chosen to come.

The four of them spent an entire afternoon conjuring chairs and a long table around which the discussions would take place. The rest of the time until the others came was spent in precise measurements of the ceiling of the hall. Rowena was certain that she managed adapting the Disillusionment charm properly and they were ready to try and cast it.

She was quite sure that they had startled Ceridwen and Rhys when the two first entered the hall through the empty doorway, for the first thing either of them had said was "Great Merlin, what in hell's fire are you _doing_?"

Salazar and Godric were standing firmly on the ground and levitated Helga and Rowena up to the ceiling. The two women were busily measuring the length and breadth of the hall, as well as its height.

"Measuring, Mother," Godric said laconically as he gently lowered Helga down. "Are you all here?"

"They are all right behind us," Ceridwen answered.

There were about two and a half dozen people in the council that first night; Phoenix Knights and their wives, Dahlia and Bran, Ceridwen, Rhys and his three eldest sons, and a few couples from the village who had, according to a rather sarcastic Godric, "seen the light". Once they were all seated, he got up and addressed the assembly.

"Welcome to our new Council Chamber," Godric said, knowingly comparing the new hall to that of Ambrosius' Council. They had not discussed the matter beforehand, but Rowena, and by their amused expressions, quite a few of the Knights present, found it rather fitting. "It's not completed as yet, and this furniture will definitely change in a few years' time, but get used to seeing this place, because you will spend here a lot of time.

"A little less than a year ago, my friends and I arrived here without any clear idea in mind. We were exiled by Ambrosius, with a death warrant over our heads, and all we really thought about at the time was how we could survive.

"This has changed. We took upon us two missions in the past year. The first one, and the most important in the long run at that, is the education of the next generation. We had already started working on that.

"The second one, however, is much more important at the moment, for if we cannot rid ourselves of Ambrosius' threat, we cannot continue the venture of this school.

"You all know why you are here. Many of us had been waiting for this day for a very long time. We can't rush it, however. We need to plan and make ready, for without it, we are no better than he. We invited you here in order to make our first plans. Rowena?"

Rowena nodded and stood up. "Godric, Salazar, Helga and I came to one conclusion a long time ago. Some of you know of it, but in benefit of those who don't, I shall repeat it.

"We can_not_ do this by ourselves. True, we have many more people than we had when we first arrived here, but this is not enough. In order to make things possible for us we need the help of the entire village. The people of the Loch must support us - or at least not be a hindrance to us. Therefore, we have decided to address the people of the village as soon as possible. We asked Sir Rhys to call for a village meeting. It should take place during the next week or so, and we would like all of you to participate and show your support."

"Are you out of your _mind_, woman?" Bran demanded from his place at the end of the table.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked mildly. From the corner of her eye she could see Salazar putting a restraining hand on Godric's arm.

"You will get us all killed - not to talk about getting your heads right where Ambrosius wants you - in the noose!"

"And why should that happen, Bran?" Salazar asked.

"Because the people of the village will hand you in! Ambrosius' arm is long."

"Do you truly believe that, Bran?" Ceridwen asked with an arched eyebrow.

"He will crush the whole village down!"

"Ambrosius is weakening, Bran," Sir Brendan said calmingly. "His grip on the Wizarding World is now ever so fragile. There are pockets of resistance starting to crop up everywhere. None of them has been successful so far, that much is true, but if we contact them and unite under one banner…"

"And what banner is it exactly?"

"The banner of Hogwarts, of course," Helga said quietly from her place. She rose to her feet to stand next to Rowena. "We have in our power to unite all the groups who oppose Ambrosius and the Council, Bran. Our connections are wide - from Muggle borns to born wizards. From the poorest wizarding family to the richest. We can get them all to participate. It may take time, but with your help we can make it happen. Talking to the people of the Loch is just the first stage in our overall plan. Ambrosius _will_ go down." She then sat down and Rowena continued.

"Satisfied?" she asked Bran, staring hard at him.

He swallowed hard but said nothing.

"As we were saying, then. We want you all to come and be the grain of truth that will tip the scales in our direction. That's all we had done up till now. It is time to start discussing our future plans beyond the support of the Loch."

"We can start by hunting down the members of the Chamber Guard the Council had sent to kill you for," Sir Gwilym suggested.

"Not a bad idea, all in all," Sir Deiniol conceded. "But I think our first action should be to contact every former member of the Order - not including those such as Sir Randolf. I know that Madam Gryffindor managed to contact some of them, but there are many others whom she can't get in touch with and only we can."

"And what will we do once we contact them?" countered Eanraig the smith.

"We will have a military force in case Ambrosius comes with a direct force against us," Deiniol answered. "Once we reinstate the old contact system we can have the entire Order here within two days at the most."

"The system hasn't been in use for more than twenty years, Deiniol," Sir Reynard said, shaking his head. "Some of the Knights are dead and others are no longer of us. The probability of it actually working properly is minuscule."

"But possible all the same," Deiniol said mildly. "I say we give it a chance."

Rowena jotted the suggestion down and looked expectantly at the rest of the crowd.

"Once we contact the Knights," Ceridwen said, "We might as well contact the groups Brendan mentioned before. I think it would do no harm to spread around the word that the ones leading the rebellion-"

"Who said it's a rebellion?" Eanraig's wife demanded, fear etched into her expression.

"My dear Eilish," Ceridwen said softly. "When you go against the authorities in such a way as we are planning, it is considered a rebellion. Now, as I was saying, I think we should let people know that the ones leading the rebellion are Lords Gryffindor and Slytherin, and the heiress of Raven Lord. Those names have a grand legacy surrounding them, and should add more glamour to our cause."

Silence fell after that suggestion while the participants mulled it over. It was soon broken, however, by a villager by the name of Wallace - one of the first to submit his children to their care.

"I think that we are overlooking one important detail," he said seriously.

Rowena immediately turned her attention his way. "Oh?"

"Well, we really should consider how to protect both our children _and_ our leaders. We can't let them go unprotected."

"We already took those precautions," Godric said confidently. "We placed hexes and curses around the perimeter so that none could come near in order to harm us or the children."

"No, Godric," Rowena said thoughtfully. "There's something in what he says. We should probably erect an Apparition block."

"An Appa-what?"

"Apparition!" she said irritably. She just told them about that the previous week! "It derives its meaning from the synonym to the word ghost, phantom, specter. It means a spirit, something invisible, a-"

"But what _is_ it?"

"The ability to disappear from one place only to appear in another, miles away. Merlin, Godric! You have watched my mother, Helga and I practice it for a whole winter!"

Sourly, he demanded "So why do we need this Apparition thing? You're the only one who knows how to do it."

She rolled her eyes. "We are going to need it because I'm going to teach our students how to do it, and once we start teaching it, Ambrosius is bound to discover it sooner or later and _then_ we will need the block - or shield, rather."

The rest of the evening was spent discussing how they will contact all those they hoped to be their allies. All that time Rowena felt her friends' accusing eyes on her, and wondered what she had done to deserve that.

She discovered soon as the meeting broke off and their guests left.

"When _exactly_ did you plan on letting us know that you're are going to teach the children Apparition?" Salazar asked coolly.

Rowena stared at him in surprise.

"It _is_ our school as well as yours," Godric added accusingly.

"You should share those things with us, Rowena," Helga said also.

She shook her head in annoyance. "But I _did_ tell you," she huffed. "Last week. Ah, now I remember. You were to bleeding drunk to remember a word I said!" With that she left.

-

Rowena erected the Apparition Shield herself. It was rather small, encompassing only the castle and the house. Into it the others wove anew all their curses and hexes.

"It's much stronger than the previous protections," she told them with a somewhat self-satisfied expression when she was done.

"Was it hard?" Salazar asked in interest.

"Not too hard, no," she said flippantly.

In truth, however, the placing of the Shield was one of the hardest things she had ever done. In the same time she had had to concentrate on the thing it was supposed to shield the area from, on pushing the bubble of protection further on _and_ on not ripping the texture of the Shield and by that enabling hostile forces (namely, Ambrosius) to break it. She was sweating profusely by the time it was done, but being Rowena, she would be damned before admitting that.

She wobbled just a little, though, when they prepared to go back to the house.

"Are you _sure_ you're all right, 'Wena?" Helga asked worriedly.

"Why, of cou-"

She never finished her answer. A booming voice coming from the direction of the pillars carrying the winged warthogs roared "Come and face me, cowards! Come and face Marcus Gregory!"

The four exchanged glances. They were not used to be addressed this way. Carefully they made their way to the pillars.

The man standing between the pillars was tall. He was wearing full armour, red as blood. He had a flowing mane of blond hair and his grey eyes were cold.

"Who are you?" Godric demanded in the most insolent tone he could muster.

"I am called Marcus Gregory and I have come to take your lives!"

"That's nice, dear!" Godric taunted and Rowena slapped his arm warningly.

"Don't tempt him," she hissed.

"Oh, don't worry, Rowena. He can't go beyond the pillars, remember?"

"You imbecile! We withdrew the protections until I can build a larger Shield, _remember?_"

"What do you want?" Salazar took over.

"I told you. I am here for your lives. Come and face me, and I shall kill you."

"Ah… I don't think so. We're not so tired of living, you see."

"I shall get you, Slytherin - I shall get all of you, and Ambrosius will have what he wanted, and _I_ shall have what I want."

"And what is that?"

"None of your business."

"When I say," Salazar whispered. "Send your most powerful curses in his direction. Let's get him in one piece. I'd like to… question him."

"Don't do that, Slytherin," Gregory said in disgust. "I have come here well protected. This is but a friendly warning. I shall be back with the Chamber Guard behind me!"

Then he flickered out of sight.

"Damned be he!" Rowena swore. "He Disillusioned himself! We will not be able to get him, Salazar. Let's go into safety, shall we?"

And the four companions retreated into the safety of their home.

Rowena knew that this will not be the last they had seen of Marcus Gregory - whoever he may be.

**A/N:** Well? Tell me what you think, please. Too dry? Too business-like? Not enough action? Not enough background or descriptions? I want to know it all.

**Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand now to all those lovely people who reviewed:**

**Chenelle:** Thank you:D And now Rowena's starting to admit things, too! I rather liked the drunkenness part, too ;) Now, to important matters: _when are you updating?_

**Cecilia Orechio:** About your question concerning Salazar and Helga: If you really want the answer, then email me, because I don't want to ruin things for those who don't want to know, k?

Now, I hope I haven't hurried the Rowena/Godric too much in this chapter… That last line was because Helga was so drunk that it made Rowena despair.

Well, technically, the house now has two bedrooms (one for the guys, one for the girls), the main room and a sort of an extra room for the kitchen. There's also the outhouse, or the privy outside, and they will add one room in order to house the students whose parents aren't living at the Loch before the next school year starts.

Well, that's an idea. Maybe it _is_ where Hagrid's house was… It's a rather nice diea, in my opinion.

Waiting for your update!

**Eratosthenese:** Well, the more serious action starts in later chapters, but I promise not to make those chapters in-between dull! Thank you very much ((blushes tomato-red)) that's one of the greatest compliments anyone writing fanfiction could get!

**Lira Neflin:** Ooh! New reviewer! I'm glad you chose to read my story even though you don't make a habit of reading that sort of fics! Thank you very much and I hope that this amounts to your expectations.

**Wicked.Awesome:** Thanks! It seems like everyone liked the drinking party… maybe I should have more of that… ((laughs))

**Angelsword:** Glad you enjoyed it! Helga is a rather sober little thing in my story, I think. It's good for her to relax a little, don't you think? ;)

**Jackie G:** I have updated! Hopefully the next one will take me a little less time, as I have parts of it prewritten by hand! Thank you!

**Innekeminneke:** Thanks!

**Moonlight on the Water:** Thank you! ((bows)) Yep, guys definitely belong there… wrapped well around our little fingers… Go Rowena!

**Rhysenn Riddle: **Thanks! I'm happy to hear it :)

**Frigabi:** Hello! Welcome aboard! I'll be happy to read your stories once they are translated.

It's not that I don't _like_ Salazar, and indeed, my views on him have changed vastly since I started writing this fic… It's just that I like the others a little more - Rowena being my favourite. As a matter of fact, I _love_ my Salazar ((huggles him)) pity he has to leave…

I thank you for all your compliments, and I'll be happy to see you again here!

**Well, that's all for today, my friends! Please enjoy my story and keep in mind that even though at times it takes me ages to update I do not forget you or the story…**

**- Star of the North**


	15. Shockwave

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** The much delayed chapter is here! For some of the month or so that had passed since I last updated I have no excuse - I was just absorbed into something else that it never occurred to me that this chapter is long overdue.

For the past couple of weeks or so, I _do_ have a justified reason. My net decided to stop working. Sorry.

Well, this is Chapter 14. I do hope it's not giving the story a ridiculous turn… tell me what you think, okay?

Love you all for sticking on!

**Chapter 14 – Shockwave**

_"One of the most ancient (now rendered null and void) traditions of the Wizarding World was the Wizard Abduction Code. To modern readers this may sound a bit like a contradiction in terms. Abduction is obviously a course of action unaccepted by society, yet a code makes it somewhat legitimate._

_"To the wizards of ancient times, however, this seemed perfectly sensible. Political abductions were commonplace at the time, as were assassinations and sudden disappearances. The Council, under Lord Islay, the third Chief Warlock, had composed the Wizard Abduction Code in which were fundamental rules concerning the behaviour of both abductor and abducted._

_"Surprisingly enough, the Code was mostly followed._

_"What has this to do with Hogwarts? A mostly unknown fact is that Marcus Gregory was not exactly a law-abiding man, and to complete his mission he resorted to the foulest of means - the abduction, and possible murder of one of the Founders of Hogwarts…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author Unknown**

The village tavern had been converted to a meeting hall in a surprisingly short time. To Salazar, who was standing with his friends at a dark corner, shrouded by a thick cloak, it looked as though they had it prepared in a matter of seconds.

The tables were swept aside with a wave of a wand, as were the chairs. The bottles and barrels were stored in the back room, and low benches were levitated inside and put in orderly rows.

He could feel his heart beating strongly as the people of the village started coming in and taking seats. One wrong word would send for the lawmen - and from there to Ambrosius' reach, the road was short.

_"There is nothing to fear, Salazar,"_ Maureen hissed in his ear from her seat around his neck. He missed her there for a long time since she went exploring upon the day they had settled in the ruins.

_"How can you tell?"_ he hissed quietly, hoping not to get caught by a vigilant villager. _"For all you know we could be clapped in irons and sent to Ambrosius gift-wrapped. I wouldn't put it beyond Alistair McAlister and his bunch. All they care about is their money."_

_"Many Humans do so, Salazar. For some it's what they do best. Now calm down. Your heartbeats make my head ache."_

_"Sorry, Maureen."_

_"Don't say sorry. Stop it."_

Salazar stifled a chuckle. That snake was so domineering. Everything had to be done her way or no way at all.

When the tavern was full, Sir Rhys got up and placed himself in front of the men and women of the Loch, in clear view of the four standing in shadow.

Salazar felt more than saw Godric give the old man an almost imperceptible nod.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began. "My friends, I am sure you are all wondering why I have summoned you here on such a fine summer evening when we would all rather sit outside and enjoy ourselves.

"Well, tonight I have a very serious subject to broach. The issue of Lord Ambrosius, and the stance we should take in the matter of his pursuit of Lords Slytherin and Gryffindor, and their two gentle companions."

Next to him, Salazar heard Godric murmur "Gentle, my ar- Oof! _Rowena!_"

Salazar sniggered, but kept his eyes on Rhys.

"In the beginning of this year we had a long, loud argument concerning the matter. Some said that we should hide them - some said we should give them to Ambrosius as good citizens should. Since that time many things had happened.

"For one thing, the four settled in the ruins of Cormag's Fort and renamed them Hogwarts-"

"What is the meaning of this, Rhys?" Alistair McAlister demanded, jumping to his feet, his eyes darkening.

"If you would sit down, McAlister," Eanraig the smith boomed from his seat at the back. "Perhaps Sir Rhys would be able to explain."

"But-"

"Sit _down_, McAlister!"

The man sat down like a dog kicked by its master for disobedience.

Sir Rhys' eyes twinkled mischievously as he resumed his speech. "As I was saying, the four settled in the ruins and named them their home, sealing the deal by renaming them.

"You all found it very easy to ignore the matter at hand. You kept talking about what should be done, but never once did you lift a finger in any direction. Not so all of your neighbours.

"In the past few months, you may have seen some of the village children leaving each day, sometimes before daybreak, the area of the Loch. This was in order to receive education in the field of magic by the four at the ruins."

Mingled sounds of outrage and surprise rang in Salazar's ears.

"Mark the angry-looking ones," he whispered to his friends. "They are the ones we'll want to avoid later on."

"Yes, yes," Sir Rhys continued. "I understand the alarm that some of you might be feeling this very moment, but I assure you - your fears, though founded, will not come to pass. Not if you listen to what the four have to say."

"Ah-ha!" McAlister crowed. "You have been assisting the enemies of the government all this time, Rhys! You will receive what's coming for you when Ambrosius arrives here to finish them off! You will be the first one to go!"

Few villagers voiced their agreement, but those voices were drowned by others who wanted to hear Sir Rhys out. Salazar heartened. Things were looking up for them.

Sir Rhys simply looked at McAlister, a slight smile on his lips. "You were always the hothead, Alistair. This will not help you in this case." Then he turned to the entire hall. "Now we have come to the point of my words so far. I ask you all to vote. Will you, or will you not consent to at least hear our four neighbours out and allow them safe passage back to their home at the end of this evening, no matter what you final decision is? All in favour raise you hands."

There was an awkward moment when no one moved. Men glanced at their wives, women glanced at their friends. None dared say anything.

Salazar froze. On this moment everything hung. If the answer to Sir Rhys' question was no, then there was no way for them to come out of the tavern without fighting. None of the new villagers - namely the Knights who had taken residence there in the past months - could raise their hands first, because that would turn the village against them. Neither could Ceridwen, Dahlia or Sir Rhys' family, for reason of their kinship to the four companions.

Finally, someone held up her hand. Defiantly, Moira, the mother of one of their students, raised her hand, challenging everyone with her eyes.

"You know Rhys tells the truth," she called out. "Ambrosius' Council is done for. It doesn't function and we are the ones who suffer for this malfunction. We pay tolls regularly and do our civic duties, making sure the Loch is a safe place for wizards and witches to live in. And what do we receive in return? Nothing, that's what! More tolls, more demands, more injustice! Those four whose life we're discussing have done nothing wrong but angering Ambrosius for failing to do as he ordered. Tell me, is that fair? Is this the justice of the Council?"

"Moira's right," Eanraig called out, rising to his feet, his hand in the air. "If what we are seeing these days is the future our children are going to have, why, then we should all simply pack our things and leave! This is not what I have planned for my boys. A future where they can be turned Servants at the slightest pretext? A future where they cannot be certain if some simple transgression will award them death or worse? I refuse to let them grow up like this. They are free men!"

"Let the outcasts speak!" an old man called out, raising his hand.

"The least we can do it hear them out," a few others concurred.

Slowly, most of those seated in the tavern raised their hands.

"Very well, Rhys," McAlister said grudgingly, glaring at his fellow villagers. "Send summons for the outcasts that we will meet them here tomorrow. Who will go?" There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that Salazar did not like.

"We probably should avoid the Loch in the next couple of days," he whispered. "He's up to something."

"Well," McAlister jeered. "Why don't you send for them? Too scared that they might kill you?"

"That won't be necessary, my dear Master McAlister," a voice said.

Surprised, Salazar whirled to see Godric stepping from the shadows near the door, pushing back the hood of his cloak.

McAlister jerked, his eyes suddenly wide. "What… When…" he then recomposed himself and demanded "How long have you been standing there?"

"Enough. Now that you have all, decided to hear our words," Godric said softly, "I believe that it is time for us to introduce ourselves." He motioned the other three to join him.

Wary, Salazar complied, drawing into the light, walking through the aisle left between two rows of benches, the two women close behind.

"Now, my friends," Godric said. "We are, as you see, the fearsome outcasts that you have heard so much about in the past year or so."

There were several sniggers in the crowd, and Salazar had to stifle his own smile. With one proclamation, Godric managed to disarm a considerable part of his audience. The four of them truly did not look fearsome. Rowena had ink stains on her cheek and fingers, her hair was all over the place, aided by the fierce wind they had to ride in when they came to the village; Helga always appeared wide-eyed and innocent; Salazar was tired and blinked often - a thing that made him feel ridiculous, but he surmised that it was all in a good cause, so he did nothing to stop it; and as for Godric? Godric always had the ability to charm almost anyone.

Godric continued his introduction, inventing it on the spot. "I am brave Lord Gryffindor of Wild Moor. This brooding man beside me is shrewd Lord Slytherin of the Fen. The darling looking girl is sweet Lady Hufflepuff of Caerwyn Valley, and last, but certainly not least - if I want to keep my health, that is-" More sniggers, and a painful looking jab in Godric's ribs by Rowena, "-is the fair Lady Ravenclaw of the Glen.

"We are, as Sir Rhys pointed out, your new neighbours, and anyone wishing to enjoy our company is invited to visit the lovely - though still under construction - Castle of Hogwarts. Do not be shy - we love having guests."

"Oh, do get on with it, Godric," Rowena growled. "They're not here to hear you smart-mouthing. Most have children and would like to get back to them before daybreak."

Godric did not let her deter him. Brightly, he said "Now, I'm glad my dear Rowena reminded me why we are here. Children, as the smith here said, deserve to have a good future. That is why we are here, you realize. We are not fighting Ambrosius in order make riches for ourselves or to get more power." His face clouded. "To be honest about it, we're as powerful as powerful get - Ambrosius is nothing to us in that aspect. We do not wish to rule, nor do we want dominion over the Wizarding World. All we ever wanted was a safe, peaceful haven for ourselves.

"But Ambrosius will have none of that. He wants us gone, and because of that he does not hesitate to hurt the entire Wizarding World - you included. Our task, therefore, is to stop this man before he can cause serious harm.

"We came here to ask for your support and help."

"And what can we do to help - if we choose to do so?" a gnarled old woman asked.

"The first thing is let us be what we want to be. Let us teach you children to become great wizards and witches. We have between us knowledge of most of the important fields in the arts of witchcraft and wizardry. Those amongst you whose children we already teach can attest to that. We have much to offer."

"How can you expect us to believe that we can get all that for free?" snorted a young man. "I don't know about some of the people here, but what I do in life does not earn me a lot. I have three children - how can I afford giving them all this so-called greatness of magic?"

"Of course it is not entirely free-" Godric began, but was cut off by the man again.

"See? What kind of-"

"Please," Helga suddenly said. "Hear us out, friend. Our teaching may not be free, but the payment is nothing more than you can afford. What we need for now is your help in building our Castle, furnishing it, helping make doors and windows, cleaning, building - anything that you can think of is welcome. Think of it as a long-term investment. Your children, who, I assume, are still too young to be tutored, will benefit from your help today. They will have proper classes and proper meals. Anything we can do in order to make their lives more wholesome in that aspect will be done - with your help."

"Say that we let you teach our children," another man said. "This is clearly not the only thing you want from us - you as good as said so only a few moments ago. What else does the bargain include? I'd like to know that before I sign my name to it."

"The bargain, as you so aptly named it," Salazar interjected smoothly, seeing that things were going more or less the way they wanted them to. "Indeed includes more than that.

"By letting us tutor your children, you are contracting the Loch to us. You are making us legitimate. You are defying Ambrosius. This leads me to the second part of what we wish to ask of you." He looked at them, giving them all a chance to meet his eyes. "We need your support in defying Ambrosius and ultimately removing him and his good-for-nothing Council from their position of power."

The uproar that this caused nearly made Salazar's ears explode.

"You're asking us to die!"

"You will bring the end of the Loch upon us!"

"There is no way!"

"Ambrosius is too powerful!"

"We will all be killed."

"You are ridiculous."

Salazar winced noticeably when he heard that. This was not said by a scared villager. It was not even directed at them. It was Rowena, and her quiet voice penetrated the noise, making everyone stare at her.

"I am sick and tired of listening to this babble," she said angrily, her voice rising together with her temper. "Yes! What we are offering is dangerous - but so is not helping us. One way or another, we will pick up the fight against Ambrosius. With your help or without it. You cannot get to us - Hogwarts is well protected. What will you do then? Either way you will be dragged into this business. You cannot remain neutral.

"If you do not help Ambrosius, he will accuse you of treason, bring his soldiers and wipe out this village. We will do our best to help, but our best might not be enough for lack of actual need.

"If you help Ambrosius, you will be our enemies - but worse that that, on either occasion you will be trapped right in the middle of the war zone. Ambrosius will bring his men to fight us. Your children will be taken, your wives and daughters taken, too - only for other needs.

"I'm telling you what will happen, not threatening you. The choice is yours to make. I think we are done here. Discuss it amongst yourselves and let us know."

Without another look at her friends or the villagers, Rowena strode off.

Glancing at Helga and Godric, Salazar followed. This had better work, he felt.

* * *

"I hated doing that," Rowena said angrily as they sat around the table in their small house. She had not touched her dinner. "Drawing straws is not fair."

"_Someone_ had to do it, Raven," Helga reminded softly. "They needed it said bluntly and unadorned."

"I know. It doesn't make me feel any better. They are going to hate me now."

"They hated you anyway," Godric said sweetly.

"Shut it before I shut it _for_ you," she growled threateningly.

A gentle knock on the door made them all alert. Gingerly, Helga got up and opened it. Heaving out a great sigh of relief, she let in Sir Rhys and Ceridwen.

"They bought it," Ceridwen announced, a tired smile on her face. "They will assist you in your every need, and after the summer season they will start sending children in."

"So soon?" Godric frowned, forgetting in his excitement to retort Rowena. "I thought it'd take them two days in the _least_."

"Eanraig, Wallace and the others had to give them a demonstration of why saying no is such a bad idea," Sir Rhys said with a broad, cheerful grin.

"Oh?"

"McAlister and his gang are going to have a horrible headache when next they wake."

"Ah."

"Are they likely to be any trouble?" Salazar asked. "We had better head off that sort of thing."

"Not likely," Ceridwen said, shaking her head. "Rowena's declaration made them scared to even move without you assenting."

"That's good. Did you manage contacting some of the other Knights? And the groups opposing the Council?"

"Deiniol and Reynard are still out there, picking the Knights one by one. As for those groups? We haven't received word as yet. My personal belief is that they are waiting to see that we are serious about it. They want to see some action taking place."

"Let's get on with it, then," Helga said.

* * *

"Salazar! Salazar!" Helga called from the general direction of the still-crude stairwell that led to the dungeons.

The two were working on restoring the dungeons and making them habitable. Rowena and Godric were working up in the northern tower. Helga left a few moments before to ask whether they wanted to have lunch already.

Tearing his attention from the wall he was carefully strengthening, Salazar looked up to see her running towards him. At first he smiled, sure that she was going to tell him something good. Then he saw her expression in the dim wand-light.

"What is it?" he asked urgently, gripping her shoulders. "Did something go wrong in the northern tower? Are they all right?"

"Are they all right?" she cried. "They're ready to kill each other - they're at each other's throats! They wouldn't listen to a word I say! We have to _do_ something about it already!"

Sighing, Salazar calmed himself. Sometimes he simply wanted to kill his best friend. Godric could not resist teasing Rowena. And Rowena, being her patient self, responded by exploding.

"I'm coming," he said. Then he hissed _"Come, Maureen. It's time to distract Godric and Rowena again."_

The small snake slithered her way to his arm, hissing as she went. _"I don't see why they keep repeating this, Salazar. It's becoming ridiculous. They feel the same way towards each other, so why not simply mate and have little ones?"_

Salazar nearly choked on that as he followed Helga up the stairs. _"This is not how it is done, Maureen. Not with humans."_

_"You humans are strange beings, Salazar. You make the smallest matters complicated. Just tell Godric and Rowena to stop being ridiculous. Tell them to make up and mate."_

His strangled "_What!_" was apparently not said in Parseltongue, for Helga looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What - what?" she asked.

"Nothing, dear," he muttered, glaring at his snake. "Simply that Maureen had some weird ideas about our two friends up there."

She refrained from prying deeper into the matter. Her eyes were still worried.

He heard them long before they were halfway up the spiral staircase that led up to the top of the northern tower where Godric and Rowena were supposed to be finishing the placing of the carved wooden beams which helped support the tower's roof.

"-arrogant, foolish _prat_!" Rowena's voice rang.

"You don't have to be so sensitive about it!" Godric replied sourly.

"Sensitive? I'm not being _sensitive_. The fact of that matter is that you _groped_ me!"

Salazar had to stop an involuntary snort.

"I _told_ you they were at it again!" Helga said desperately as they peeked through the opening at the top of the stairs, watching the combatants. "They wouldn't _listen_."

"They never listen anyway. Why even try?" he said with a shrug, observing his two friends.

"_Salazar!_"

"Fine, fine - though if you ask me, he deserves it this time. Let's see of we can separate them. You'll help Rowena here, and I will take Godric to work down at the dungeons with me. How does that sound?"

"Like a bloody stupid way of delaying the inevitable."

"I know," he admitted. "But have you a better idea?"

She shrugged helplessly, her blond locks shaking and sparkling in the light of the sun coming through the not quite completed roof.

"Everything will be all right, dear," he said softly, his hand coming to rest on her cheek. "They will realize sooner or later what they are missing. For now - let's just keep them away from each other."

She nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Salazar walked into the small battlefield. "That's enough now, children," he said, catching the two's attention.

If looks could kill, Salazar was sure he would be burned to a crisp. He raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"None of that, please. I'm just here to make a bit of order in the mess. Godric, pack up. You're coming down to the dungeons with me. Helga will remain here and help Rowena finish up. Are we clear? I'd like to keep the two of you away from each other till you cool down."

Glaring at Rowena, Godric picked up his cloak and wand, and followed Salazar down the stairs.

Once they reached the bottom and started making their way back to the dungeons, he Salazar said "You deserved that - you do realize that, don't you?"

"I don't see how any of that is your business," Godric replied petulantly.

"Godric, if you groped her, you deserve everything she had to scream at you."

"I didn't _grope_ her," the other man said, though his eyes did not meet Salazar's. "I merely brushed against her as I was reaching for another beam."

"A brushing that may have included a lingering touch on her front?" Salazar asked archly.

"Maybe," Godric said evasively.

"_Godric_, you should know better. I'm half in mind of taking you back and letting her hex you to Hades and back."

With a sullen Godric at his side, Salazar made much more progress down in the dungeons than with Helga. He supposed that it had to do with the _other_ things he and Helga did whenever alone.

It was mostly innocent, mind you.

Really.

As afternoon wore on, Salazar suddenly remembered something. With all the excitement of the night before and the need to entertain the annoyed Godric, it had completely slipped his mind that their stores were dwindling and that it was time to take the supplies wagon to the Loch. Hoping it was still not too late, he told Godric to go on working and that he would be back in a little while.

"No," Godric said. "Let me go. If I have to spend the evening with that wench I'll lose my mind. I will visit my mother, make sure that we can walk undisguised in the streets of the Loch, and close up some unfinished businesses. I need this outing, Salazar. Please."

Shrugging, Salazar nodded his agreement. It was truly for the best to keep the quarreling couple away from each other. He grinned to himself. In his mind, he already let Maureen's suggestion shape his thoughts.

* * *

It was almost midnight. All the lights in the little house were supposed to be long out. This was not the case however.

Light flooded from the half-shut shutters and voices were heard.

Salazar and Helga were sitting on a low bench by the fire and watched Rowena as she paced restlessly to and fro.

"He should have been back more than four hours ago!" she growled. "It doesn't _take_ that long to load a cart and drive back! Irresponsible fool!"

"Please, Rowena," Salazar tried to sound composed. "Calm yourself. He must have stayed at Ceridwen's for a while."

"But it's not _like_ him to disappear without a word. And it's been too long. Ceridwen will _never_ let him stay up late."

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, I'll take Cian for a ride and go get him. Then, when we come back, you can scold him for all you are worth."

Her expression doubtful, but her eyes lit with hope, Rowena nodded. "Tell him that I'll _kill_ him when he comes back if he doesn't have a _very_ good excuse - and if I discover he's been drinking himself senseless in that Calanthe's company..."

Smiling, though not waiting for her to finish up her sentence, Salazar got up, squeezed Helga's hand to reassure her and went out.

As he started on his journey to the village, he was humming happily.

Rowena was good for Godric. He had been too wayward for too long. Salazar could not say that his friend was irresponsible, nor could her deny the fact that he could be much more serious than he normally let on during the past year and a half. But Godric needed someone to pull him up short - and Rowena was just such person.

In his heart, Godric knew that, of that Salazar was sure. He decided that this was the reason for the other man's taunts and teasing. Godric realized, just as Salazar did, that a commitment to Rowena was a commitment for life. There was no going back, and Godric did not want that just yet.

It was obvious, however, to anyone but the two involved, that in the end they will give in - and the greater they are, the harder they fall.

Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor were in for a long, hard, inevitable drop.

* * *

Salazar's first stop upon reaching the village was their usual loading point - a place just outside the tavern on the outskirts of town, where their supporters hid the supplies.

He could see tracks in the earth around that point - of a horse, a cart and a man. Godric had reached there - of that he had no doubt. However, as he was obviously not there anymore, he turned in the direction of Sir Rhys' house.

Salazar knocked on the front door firmly, hoping that someone was still awake. It took a short while, but finally Lleulu opened the door cautiously, her face concerned in the dim hallway light. When she saw it was him, she smiled, though her eyes still showed concern.

"Welcome, Lord Slytherin. How may I help you?"

"I apologize for the hour, Mistress Lleulu, but I am here on an urgent errand. Is Godric here?"

"Lord Gryffindor? He left over five hours ago," she said with a frown. "He came over briefly, talked with Ceridwen, and then left. He said Madam Ravenclaw would skin him alive were he to dawdle."

"Oh, I see. Do you think he may have gone somewhere else?"

"Maybe to Calanthe's tavern. I don't know."

"I doubt it, but I'll look. Thank you, Lleulu. Give my regards to Ceridwen, and again, I apologize for the hour of my coming."

Not waiting another moment, he turned, mounted his horse and rose off back to the tavern. It was not very likely that Godric stopped there, as he got an earful from Rowena every time he came back with the smell of ale and smoke on him. Her excuse was that it was dangerous for him and that he might be discovered, but Salazar knew better. It was still an option, though.

"Salazar Slytherin! Long time no see! How fare you? The hour is late," Calanthe greeted him cheerfully as he pushed through the door. The tavern was almost empty - most of its clients either too drunk to go home, or already asleep on the floor.

"Indeed. I mustn't stay here long, I'm expected back home. Is Godric here?"

"Godric? I haven't seen him in _months_. That Rowena keeps him on a tight leash, does she not?" Calanthe took it all in good spirits. She often confided in Salazar, telling him that she truly admired the stubborn young woman, but that it would do her no harm to let go a little of herself.

"It would seem so. So he wasn't here tonight? My thanks."

Leaving the tavern, Salazar was starting to feel the faintest thread of concern gnawing at him. Where could Godric be?

It was late. Too late. Less than two hours remained till daybreak and he could already see the early risers coming out to the streets, holding lit wands.

Spotting Eanraig the smith stepping out of his front door, Salazar called his name.

"Lord Gryffindor?" the smith yawned, rubbing his eyes. "I've seen him loading that cart of yours just before nightfall yesterday. He went to Rhys', I think."

That was no good. Salazar hurriedly caught the baker next door's attention.

"I'm sorry, Lord Slytherin," the man said helplessly, his eyes showing his awe. "I haven't seen him since the meeting."

The last person Salazar asked was a young woman who was cleaning her doorstep. The sun was already peeking up the horizon.

"Gryffindor's been here, yes," she said politely. "I recognized him immediately - been at the meeting, you see. He rode off right after sunset. He said he'll be back next week and then took off in the direction of the ruins."

* * *

Salazar was worried. All the people he had talked to said that Godric was no longer in the village. If he was not in the village and not at home, then where was he? He was afraid for his friend, not knowing whether he was hurt or if something else happened to him.

A chilling thought made him freeze. What if Ambrosius' men…

No. He refused thinking such unbecoming thoughts. With a sigh he mounted Cian again and left the village.

He made his way down the track leading to the ruins hoping that by the time he will reach home Godric will already be back, being shamefacedly listening to Rowena's reprimanding.

And what a reprimanding that one would be. Missing for hours. Rowena would be frantic.

Out in the gloom a horse neighed. Cian's ears pricked and he whinnied in return. Salazar was startled. There was only one horse Cian got along with.

"Godric?" he called. "Is that you?"

There was no answer aside of another neigh.

"_Lumos_," he whispered, wishing the sun would be up already.

Ahead, trapped within a thicket of trees, stood Godric's palomino stallion, Griffith, hitched to the cart of supplies. There was no Godric in sight.

**A/N:** Ta-da! What d'you think? Don't be shy… Good? Bad? Could do with a bit of a change? Review and tell me what you think!

**And to all my reviewers to whom many hugs are sent:**

**Roe Merrifield:** Well, I'm not one to speak of being late in updating, as you can see :) I'm happy to get your reviews, no matter if they are late or not, and I am grateful whenever you come back to read this story. Thank you so much - and the thing about Salazar and Helga? Well, I'll keep it secret :D For now they are…erm… on friendly term, shall we say?

**Cecilia Orechio:** First of all, I'd like to say how sorry I am for not reviewing your story in such a long time - expect my return any day now! I don't remember if I answered your question in my email - so I'll answer again shortly:

Helga's been pushing Rowena into admitting that she feels for Godric. Rowena now understand that she does, but she's too proud and won't admit it to Helga - that's the smirk she's dreading. She's afraid that Helga would be able to see right through her.

**Rhysenn Riddle:** For now Helga and Salazar are… friendly. Things might heat up a little later, but as we all know what happens in the end… Well, thanks for reviewing:D

**Jackie G:** Thank you so much:)

**FizzingWhizbeez:** Thank you! Marcus Gregory shall appear again in the next few chapters - not to worry. Heh, good one! Yes, the idea behind the Loch is early Hogsmeade - the name will be changed much later on. I commend you for noticing it :D

**Innekeminneke:** Indeed they must! Though most likely things will take care of themselves after all - with a bit of tweaking that is. Thanks!

**Moonlight on the Water:** Yep. Ambrosius is too high up to simply despose of - and as he has this nasty little Council to back him up - a rebellion is in place! Thank you so much for all your compliments to my story :)

**Angelsword:** Thank you very much!

**Teenrogue:** Personally, I think that Rowena is more the slapping/punching type - she has too much temper and Godric tends to loosen her control of herself… sorry for the lack of action - hang on!

**Frigabi:** Hmm… ((tries imagining a drunk Rowena and falls on the floor, laughing)) I think a drunk Rowena would be a walking disaster - would anyone want to see that? Thanks for the typo alert - as I said, I'm trying to double check everything, but sometimes things slip.

Thank you for reviewing!

**Circe la Fay:** Thank you so much! I'm glad that your first Founder Fic ever did not traumatize you ;) I hope you like my Salazar - I always thought of him as more human than some fics portray him.

**Mello80:** Thank you! It makes me happy that this story hooks on even those who never read Founder fics before!

**Chibi-Cola:** I really appreciate your reviewing :) It's great to hear this!

You're right - this is one of the things that make the Founders so fun to write about. I can practically invent anything I want about them - because we know so little of them. I'm dreading the day Salazar will leave, too, because I like him so much and it'll hurt to make him so stubborn and angry… luckily, there are quite a bit of chapters before _that_ happens.

Thanks!

**She-Who-Snogs-Weasley-Boys:** Thank you very much! My other chaptered fic is Marauders' Era and has been in pending for a long time, but I'm in the process of writing the next chapter - so I'd be happy if you read it.

**Gallon of Firewhiskey:** Yes indeed! Rowena and Godric are _made_ for each other. It might take a little bit more time to actually _realize_ it, though…

I've taken a few quizzes such as that - usually I'm put in Ravenclaw, too. The quotes from _Hogwarts, A History_ are of my own writing. I've never seen anyone trying to actually write the book… If memory serves, the quote in Chapter 1 was what actually started me writing this story - things that you'd do to avoid your brain cells committing mass suicide during school hours… Thanks for all your complements, and I'm hoping to see you again soon!

**SilverHawk 27:** Thank you! ((blushes))

**I'm not entirely sure, but I think this is the biggest number of reviews I've received after uploading a single chapter! Thank you all so much!**

**On another note, if anyone has some more complex questions to ask me, you're all welcome to email me.**

**Hopefully, updating will pick up the pace now, because I know that in a couple of months' time I'd be so swamped with finals that updates would be rare.**

**Again, thank you for staying with me!**

**- Star of the North**


	16. Knight

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** I have no idea why, but it seems almost like the farther I go with this story, the longer the chapters grow. Funny thing ((shrugs))

Now, my dear readers, I have a riddle for you: What are the benefits of being home, sick?

Well, for one thing, you miss school, which is always a good idea, but the more important thing, is that you get to update your story in about a week since you have last updated!

So here you go, Chapter 15. See? I'm nice! I didn't let you hang with that annoying cliff for too long!

Enjoy!

**Chapter 15 – Knight**

_"Little is known of Godric Gryffindor's time in Gregory's hands. He said little of it, not even to those he cherished. The little he did say, much later on in life, was that during the time of his captivity, he came to terms with his ideals and beliefs, among other things that he will keep locked in his heart forever…"  
_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author Unknown**

While Marcus Gregory was waiting for Gryffindor to wake up, he was contemplating what to do. As a matter of fact, the big oaf fell into his hands much earlier than he had expected. He certainly almost missed him when Gryffindor entered the village, grumbling to himself about the unfairness of life.

Marcus had been hunting at that specific moment, and had finally managed to corner that dratted rabbit when it had been scared away by the passing cart.

He had been half in mind to curse the cart owner into oblivion, when he had realized who that owner is.

After that things were easy. Marcus had followed Gryffindor as he visited certain places in the village and then when he left.

It was only too easy to stun him from behind and then drag his limp body to his camp. He could not resist delivering a few fists to the unmoving man, though. It helped calm his nerves.

Now, however, as he watched Gryffindor starting to move a little, he was somewhat at a loss. He was not sure of the attitude he should take with this man. Was Godric Gryffindor an oaf, as many of his fellow Servants had said? Or was he in truth cut of the same cloth as his father?

His father. Bile rose in Marcus' throat as he thought about _that_ man. Brave to the point of idiocy, noble to the point of exaggeration… He was too smart to be allowed.

On the ground, Gryffindor opened his eyes and then closed them again. The blows Marcus had dealt him blackened them considerably. Marcus stifled a chuckle at the wince of pain in the man's face. He certainly made sure that Gryffindor would have a headache the minute he would wake. It was very satisfying.

It was an interesting thing to watch, to say the least. Gryffindor was trying to remember where he was and what he had done last, and all this time he was not aware of Marcus sitting not far from him, calmly smoking his pipe.

Finally, after much effort, it seemed like Gryffindor succeeded in opening his eyes and keeping them open. The sky was dark and dotted with stars, and Marcus was sure that this was all that Gryffindor could see from his point of view.

Gryffindor groaned and tried to pick himself up. The moment he raised his head, however, it turned out to be a _very_ bad idea.

When he finished emptying his stomach on the sodden ground, he flipped again on his back and breathed heavily. From the expression on his face, Marcus knew that he was trying to ignore the burning feeling in his throat - the one that came after vomiting, and which Marcus knew only too well in the days after what had happened between him and his commander. Anger rose in him once again. He shall have his vengeance even if the two responsible were long dead.

At present, he decided to speak, make sure that Gryffindor knew he was there. "Having fun?" he asked in amusement, his voice a little scratchy from years of smoking a pipe. He had taken to that vile habit when he had discovered that drinking really did not help him much and only did to befuddle his brains.

From the look of concentration on Gryffindor's face, he realized that the man somehow recognized his voice and was trying to place it. His lips curled in contempt.

Gryffindor attempted to sit up, but apparently found that his stomach still heaved. Presumably wishing to avoid a second performance of his previous engagement, he settled instead on raising his torso by leaning on his arm.

Now that he had raised himself, he had a much better view of where he was, and Marcus allowed himself to hope that the games could start even that very night.

The two men were sitting in a small enclosure between undersized, scraggly trees. It was quite a distance from both the Loch and the Castle. Marcus did not want anyone to catch sight of his fire, or of the deeds he intended to commit. The ground, admittedly, was a little sodden of last night's summer rain, but Marcus had been in worse situations during his career. This was simply a minor inconvenience.

Gryffindor was surveying his surroundings. His eyes swept over himself, then moved to consider Marcus' large roan horse, Honoratus, who was standing to one side of the small campfire. Honoratus was a proud animal, large and strong. He had carried Marcus for years without showing a sign of yielding to age. He watched Gryffindor as his eyes met with the polished, blood-red armour that was neatly stacked over his packs.

Again, recognition appeared in the captive's eyes.

Finally, Gryffindor spotted him. He was sitting in the shadows caused by the fire, and he knew that all Gryffindor could see was an outline and the smoke of the pipe.

He waited.

"Why am I here?" Gryffindor finally croaked, the burning in his throat evident in his parched voice.

"I commend you, Gryffindor," Marcus said, delighted. "Not _where am I?_ Or _who are you?_ No, you're going straight to business." He laughed. "Very well, I will tell you why you're here. You are here so that I can kill you and deliver your body and your friends to Ambrosius in Stonehenge. Was that blunt enough for you?"

"Quite," Gryffindor mumbled. There was a certain glint in his eyes that Marcus was not quite sure he liked. He started to get the feeling that this man, his rival, had all the characteristics that made his father such a dangerous adversary. The young man was already thinking of a way to defeat him. Pity that Marcus had to prove him wrong so soon. Gryffindor, however, was not aware of certain knowledge that Marcus had in his possession, so he continued. "Now that we've settled the pressing question - who are you?"

Marcus laughed again. A shrill, scratchy sound that he knew will set Gryffindor's teeth on edge. Merlin only knew how many times Ambrosius had gritted his teeth and told him not to utter that laughter in his presence. "I may keep you alive for a while just for the sake of amusement, my boy. Trying to find out who I am, are you? '_The first step in order to defeat one's enemy, is knowing against whom you are playing._' Lord Baldric's Rules of Engagement - The Knights of the Order of the Phoenix's most prized set of rules. My, my, Rhys has trained you well."

Things were going well for Marcus. His quoting of Lord Baldric's Rules was bound to make Gryffindor think just a little. No one was supposed to know about the Rules. Only Knights were allowed to read that document. Only Knights knew this document existed. Gryffindor froze. Marcus could practically _see_ the wheel turning in his head.

He rose from the shadows and stepped into the flickering light. "Recognize me now, Gryffindor?"

Gryffindor had seen him only once. But if Marcus' assessment was correct, and the man had his father's talents, then once was enough. He was almost elated to be proven right as Gryffindor said "Marcus Gregory, isn't it? You came over by the pillars a while back."

"Very _good_, Gryffindor. Very good."

"You said you want to kill me - why?"

"We shall keep that information for later on, though I don't see much reason to hide it from you. It will not help you much. For now, let's just say that I have my reasons."

"If you're waiting to gloat, then you'll be waiting for a long time," Gryffindor spat, hoping to goad him into saying something that will reveal more about him. "My friends will not fall into your hands easily."

Marcus snorted. "You fell into my hand like a ripe fruit, Gryffindor. Your friends will not be different."

Deciding he had played enough for the night, he pointed his wand at Gryffindor and with a couple of sharp commands, tied him and silenced his voice. He needed sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

* * *

_Marcus stands together with Vitus, his best friend. They are both of the last lines of Roman magic - those last proud families who refused to mingle their blood with that of the common magic Britons._

_They are disdainful of the men surrounding them, but they both realize that they have to at least pretend to be respectful if they want to become an integral part of the Order._

_"So you are out new recruits, then, are you?" a tall man about five years their elder calls as he strides near them. He has a commanding presence, and Marcus instantly recognizes him as someone with power amongst the Knights. The man's black hair is long, and he is tall and impressive. His presence almost overwhelms them._

_"Well?" the man asks, somewhat in amusement. "Name yourselves. Do not be shy. We are all brothers here."_

_"I am Marcus Gregory of Herminius' line," Marcus replies proudly. "And this is my friend, Vitus of Gallus' line."_

_The tall man seems to be amused. This is not the awe-filled expression Marcus is used to receive when he introduces himself._

_"And I am Gawain of the Gryffindor line," the man smiles. "This does not put me above my commander, though, does it? Do yourselves a favour, my boys. Keep your high and mighty approach to yourselves. This will not earn you friends amongst the Knights. I am one of the training Masters, you will do as I say. Do not argue with my commands, for arguments will get you nowhere around here. Are we clear?"

* * *

_

Marcus tossed and turned in his sleep. He did not want to dream these dreams. Those things were in the past. Long dead and buried.

* * *

_The man who rides into camp scares Marcus. He is grim and tired, but a lot of the Knights there cheer him as he arrives. He wears blue armour with the figure of a bronze eagle painted on its breast. The armour is battered and battle worn, and so is the massive sword he wears at his side and the big shield on his arm with the eagle crest painted on. This must be one of the great commanders who are fighting the Muggles on the Southern lands._

_"Who is that?" Vitus asks him in awe. "He looks like a God amongst men."_

_Marcus shrugs. He has no idea who that man is. He taps one of the Knights' shoulder. The man turns, a slightly irritated expression on his face. _

_"What is it?" he asks._

_"Who is that?" Marcus demands. "I have never seen him before."_

_The Knight laughs. "Of course. You are new around here - only a couple of years. This is Raven Lord - the Commander's own protégé. He has been trained for leadership from the moment he had enrolled as a Knight. He is here to say goodbye to the Commander, I warrant, and to take command from him."_

_"But he must be no older than twenty five!" Marcus protests. "He cannot be Commander at such a tender age."_

_The Knight laughs again. "Raven Lord is not yet twenty years of age, but he is the most competent among us - unless you count Gryffindor, and he cannot accept the position."_

_"And why is that?"_

_"Why is that?" the Knight splutters. "Because he is of the Council, that's why! One cannot command the Order if one is a member of the Council!"_

_Then the Knight turns and ignores Marcus' further attempts at drawing his attention._

_The man called Raven Lord rides through the crowds with a morose expression on his face. When he reaches the Commander's tent, he dismounts and stands before Gawain Gryffindor who stands guard by the tent._

_"It has been a long time, Raven Lord," he booms._

_"So it has, Lord Gryffindor," Raven Lord agrees, then clasps the other man's hand._

_There is a resounding clang as the two gauntleted hands meet._

_"How is he, Gawain?" Raven Lord asks in a much less formal tone._

_"Asking for you, Ryan," Gryffindor answers. "He has been asking for you for three days."_

_"Then I must see to him," Raven Lord answers._

_Gryffindor puts a comforting hand on the other man's armoured shoulder, and Marcus perceives that these two men, though separated by seven years of age, and coming from two different lineages, were close friends. No. Closer than friends. Brothers.

* * *

_

For a moment Marcus woke up in cold sweat. This was not like him at all. He had not seen those faces in years, and those occurrences he was dreaming of happened more than thirty years ago. This was not boding well even in his sleep fuddled mind.

There was no escaping those dreams however, and he soon sank back.

* * *

_The Muggles run. They run screaming. The Knights of the Order of the Phoenix ran them down moments ago, and now they are watching from the top of the hill as the few remaining are letting go of their pitchforks and torches and run for their lives. Marcus will have none of that, though._

_They killed Vitus - his only friend among the Knights. The only friend left to him from his childhood._

_Ignoring Raven Lord's commands, he puts his heels to his horse's flanks and thunders down the hill, screaming as he goes._

_He only manages to kill two of the fleeing Muggles before a gauntleted fist takes hold of his reins and another wrestles him of his sword._

_"That is enough, Gregory!" Raven Lord roars over the sound of screaming Muggles. "I commanded the killing to cease! They are escaping! These men will do no more harm to our people and you know it!"_

_"Will do no more harm?" Marcus screams, trying to get hold of his sword which is being held by Gryffindor just out of reach. "Tell that to Vitus! Tell that to Wybert, Cadeyrn and Hefin! Tell that to their wives and children! I will kill them all!"_

_"And what will you say to _their_ wives and children?" Gryffindor says angrily. "Or to the wives and children of those Knights who will lose their lives attempting to save yours? Think, man!"

* * *

_

Marcus moaned in his sleep, knowing all-too-well, even in this state, what would come next.

* * *

_"For atrocious deeds, done against Muggles and fellow Knights, Sir Marcus Gregory hereby stands trial," Raven Lord calls out, his eyes hard as he looks down at the bound Marcus. "Read his alleged crimes, if you please, Lord Gryffindor."_

_"Yes, Raven Lord," Gryffindor says from his seat next to his Commander. His eyes are just as hard, and dislike shines from them. "Sir Marcus Gregory is accused of killing Muggles on five separate occasions _after_ the order to cease killing had been called. He had been seen going on personal killing journeys where he and several others hunted down Muggles, tortured them, murdered them, abused their bodies and raped their women._

_"Several villages had been burned to the ground, their fields ruined and their water supplies contaminated._

_"Furthermore, we have testimonies that Sir Gregory and his cohorts crucified Muggles as was common in the days of the Roman Empire and hung others from trees._

_"To make things even worse, Raven Lord, these atrocities were not confined to innocent Muggles, but done to Knights as well._

_"From testimonies gleaned from Gregory's cohorts who had had a change of heart at that point, from spies that had followed the man for the past year or so, and from surviving Muggle witnesses, it had been discovered that Gregory had killed several of his Knights who attempted to pull out of the deeds openly, and not only so, but torturing them and doing unmentionable things to their bodies._

_"For those crimes, I ask for him to be put to death."_

_Marcus takes in a deep breath. He still has a chance. Raven Lord was a soft hearted man at times. If he is lucky, this was one of those times._

_"My Lord Gryffindor," Raven Lord finally says. "Fellow Knights. There is nothing that will make me happier than condemn this miscreant to death. It was fully my intention to do so when first I had heard of his crimes."_

_A glimmer of hope blossoms within Marcus' chest. Perhaps the fool will let him go._

_"However, I have been commanded by the entire Council not to do so." Raven Lord's eyes shine in distaste as he says these words, venom drips from each one. "Therefore, with what little power those pompous asses left me, I condemn Sir Marcus Gregory thus:_

_"From this day onward, you are no longer a Knight. You are a man of contempt and I remove all protection of a Knight from you. I give full permission to any Knight who may happen across your trail to wreak vengeance upon you. You are a hunted criminal, Marcus Gregory, and shall remain so till the end of your days. Lord Gryffindor will take you bound and gagged to a place far from here. You will have three days to disappear, for after that I am sending my men after you - with the Council's permission or without it. Officially or not, Gregory, I will see you die at the hands of a Knight."

* * *

_

This time, when Marcus woke, he was not able to go back to sleep. He got up and looked around his camp in the dim morning light.

His eyes met Gryffindor's icy blue ones.

"You had nightmares," the man said with certain satisfaction, and with a startled jump Marcus realized that the silencing charm must have worn off during the night.

"I did not," he denied, searching for the remains of his rabbit in his packs.

"Yes you did," Gryffindor said gleefully. "I've been watching you all night. You've been tossing and turning and more than once you screamed."

"You lie," Marcus hissed, pulling out the leaf-packed remains. "I never uttered a sound. You are trying to make me tell you something. It will not work."

"Oh, but it _has_ worked," Gryffindor's expression was smug. "You are much less confident of yourself this morning, and I distinctly remember hearing you mumble something about my father and Raven Lord. Something about committed atrocities as well. Your knowledge of the Rules of Engagement points to a Knight, but your dislike and the tone in which you said my father's name point to something entirely different."

"You have no idea what you are talking about," Marcus growled, savagely tearing at the cold meat.

"But I do, _Sir_ Gregory. You were once a Knight, but for some reason you decided to go against everything the Knights held dear, and you were none-too-gently removed. That's why you want to kill me, isn't it? You couldn't get my father, so you decided to come for me."

"And what if I did?"

"Then you are a fool."

That was too much for Marcus. In less than ten minutes since he had woken, Gryffindor already succeeded in making him reveal much about himself. The man had the same irritating qualities of his horrible father. Gawain Gryffindor had that annoying self-satisfaction as well and that certainty that everything he did was the right thing to do.

"A fool am I?" he gritted, drawing his wand and pointing it at him. "A fool who managed to take _you_ prisoner!"

Gryffindor shrugged. He was so infuriatingly _calm_.

"You can't kill me yet," he said with a slight smile. "If you kill me you will not be able to get the rest. They're going to find us you know."

He was so infernally calm that it made Marcus grit his teeth. The man was a captive, bound and on the ground, held at wand-point, and he _still_ held conversation as though he was sitting on a chair near a fireplace!

Gryffindor continued, that same half-smile on his face. "My friends will realize that there's a reason for my absence. They're waiting for the supplies cart - that's what I as doing when you so kindly decided to make me you guest. You should have checked."

Marcus ignored him and, after swallowing the last of that rabbit, felt around one of his packs for his pipe.

Gryffindor went on. "How much did Ambrosius pay you?"

"Why?" Marcus sneered, his nerves wound tight after the night's visions. "So that you could pay me more to stop me?"

"I don't think there's anything I can offer you that will stop you from doing _that_," Gryffindor said cheerfully. "No, I just want to know how much I'm worth to him."

"You're worth plenty," Marcus said softly, his eyes narrowing. "But my payment is not in gold. Oh, no. Ambrosius agreed to my terms almost readily."

"What terms were those?"

"The lives of both you and Raven Lord's spawn. Once Ambrosius had had his fill with you, of course, but I don't think he will mind me killing one of you on the way."

"Why us? Why not Salazar and Helga?"

Marcus laughed a bitter laugh. He realized that sooner or later Gryffindor will be able to discover the reason for himself, so there was no point in delaying the inevitable. After all, he had already made a very good guess only minutes before. "The Muggle born and the Slytherin brat?" he snorted. "What do I need with them? They don't bother me. It's been a known fact for a long time that I am after you and that wench. You were right, you know.

"For years I've been trying to get Raven Lord himself, but I never had the opportunity since he hid himself so well after Ambrosius did us all a favour and exiled him. Your father… well, the fool had himself killed too early on, so that left only you to begin with.

"I am going to have my revenge, Gryffindor. Your father had asked for my death, and I will bring your death. Raven Lord condemned me to years of a fate worse than death, and I will bring his daughter a fate worse than death before I kill her, too."

With certain amount of satisfaction, Marcus saw Gryffindor stiffen at these last words.

"My, my. Have I touched a sensitive spot there?" he smiled at the man's pitiful attempts to regain his composure. "You know what, my boy? I think I may have changed my mind. I will not kill you immediately upon capturing your friends. No… I will leave you alive long enough… to see what I do to your lady friend. You will enjoy the sight of what I do, and then, after I kill her - I will rid myself of you.

"Too bad that Raven Lord had had to leave a girl behind and not a boy… too bad."

* * *

Marcus went out for a lookout that afternoon. After re-administering the silencing charm, he left Gryffindor at camp and slithered his way to his hiding place near the village.

He immediately realized that it did not take the companions at the Castle long to understand the reason behind Gryffindor's disappearance.

All three were at the village's center, discussing matters with a woman he recognized with something akin to fear as Ceridwen Gryffindor, and with Sir Rhys - one of the men most trusted by Gryffindor and Raven Lord.

Marcus could not make out what they were saying, but by the grim expression on Lady Gryffindor's face, he guessed that they had by now deducted who was behind the disappearance.

Cursing, he slinked back to his camp, where Gryffindor was methodically attempting to draw himself nearer the horse.

"Stop that," Marcus said irritably and removed the charm from Gryffindor's voice. "What is your mother doing in the Loch?"

Gryffindor smiled smugly. "She's been living there for a few years now. You did not expect to have to deal with _her_, now did you?"

"A minor obstacle, soon overcome. Ambrosius never said anything about not killing _her_."

"What do you have against my mother?" Gryffindor asked in puzzlement.

"What do I have against Ceridwen Gryffindor?" Marcus barked. "That nosy wench is the reason for my fall from grace! If she wasn't so damn nosy, the Knights of my company would never have let on anything! She was to blame! I should have killed her long before, but I had to flee for my life for some reason."

"Ah," Gryffindor said, his eyes alight. "_Now_ I remember. You're the one she always called 'that monster in human skin'! You're the one who murdered and tortured all those Muggles against the Phoenix Lore and against Raven Lord's commands! You're the one who was the disgrace of the order and raped and hurt all those women! You're the one who was only spared because the Council interfered! The one who betrayed the Lore."

"Betrayed the Lore?" Marcus said, his temper rising. "I? Betray the Lore? The Lore says to protect the lives of the Magic People against all enemies! The Lore says to eliminate that threat for a better life for all our people! Your father and that Raven Lord scum sold their lives because of so-called _morals_. They were too soft-hearted, and by that _they_ betrayed the Lore. They let Muggles get away with murder of Knights and with murder of simple people. They let them get away with it!

"You call_ me_ a traitor? They were traitors ten-fold! I was a true Knight of the Phoenix and they were nothing but frauds!"

"You call yourself a Knight?" Gryffindor seethed, his eyes burning. "You? I am more a Knight than you are - and I was never knighted. The minute you began slaughtering innocents, the minute you started killing your brothers, the minute you turned from the path of the Phoenix, you stopped being a Knight. You call yourself defender of the community? Helper of the needy? Why, you are nothing but the muck that clings to the mud on a Knight's boot."

"I was making sure no wizard or witch were ever hurt again!"

"You made sure to cleanse the world of Muggles! How is that annihilation any help to us? The Muggles would have taken vengeance!"

"Not if there weren't any left!" and with that he kicked Gryffindor hard in the ribs, and the man fell silent.

* * *

Gryffindor was silent in the next couple of days. Marcus took advantage of that silence to prepare himself to the fight that he knew would ensue. He now knew that there will be more than the three companions of Gryffindor to contend against. Lady Gryffindor and Sir Rhys would help them. That meant he had to prepare five different traps to get them all. Then he would kill the Lady and Sir Rhys, and take the other three captive. Ambrosius would be happy.

On the fourth day since Gryffindor's capture, something changed in the man. His sullen silence gave way to a once again cheerful manner.

"This is the last mistake you'll ever do, you _do_ realize that, don't you?" the man said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"And why is that, Lord Gryffindor?" Marcus asked mockingly.

"Because you and Ambrosius, and all the others who support him, have already lost in your cause."

"Gryffindor," he said in an exaggerated patient voice. "Let me try and set things straight for you. You have been taken prisoner. I have already set the trap for your friends. When they come here, they will be taken by the trap and then I will take all four of you to Stonehenge - after killing your mother and Sir Rhys, of course."

"Of course. And pray tell, how do you suppose you will be able to control two wizards and two witches of unknown limits?"

"That is none of your business."

Then the other man fell silent, though that slight smirk was still on his face.

Ignoring the annoying man as best he could, Marcus started weaving his spells around, wishing to capture the three alive.

He was never a particularly strong wizard. Though descending from a noble line, his magic was very limited and only allowed so much before he would tire. Once he became a Knight, things were different.

One of the central things a Knight learned after taking the oath was how to combine swordsmanship and magic. Marcus had always been a good swordsman. He learned how he could intensify his magic by working it through his sword. He was one of the best. He had learned it from the best.

Raven Lord had taught him himself. For that Marcus admired him - for a while. But Raven Lord betrayed him. Betrayed the oath of a Knight. He had let other Knights die. He and that hulking ape of his.

With distaste he glanced at the all-too cheerful man sitting upright in his bonds, looking at all that Marcus did.

He decided it was time for Gryffindor to lose some of his smugness and cheer. Thinking back to the few conversations he had had with the man in the few days he had him under his power, he returned to that weak spot of his, that had Gryffindor so upset.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to Raven Lord's girl when I get her?" he asked, putting the finishing touches on his encompassing spells.

"No," Gryffindor replied warily. "And I'm sure I don't want to know."

"Well," Marcus said, licking his lips. "I think that you are going to hear it anyway."

He then settled himself on the ground in front of Gryffindor, just out of his reach, lit his pipe, and with a predatory smile on his face, he began. "The first thing I'll do is rip her magic out of her flesh. The method, in which I shall do it, is not very complex…"

Half an hour later he was still having fun describing in detail what the women was to go through once he were to have his hands on her. For inspiration he used those countless women he encountered during his years as a Knight when all he had had in mind was how to kill, torture and otherwise hurt Muggles.

With more than slight satisfaction he watched Gryffindor's face turn green and then white, and finally reaching a murky grey. He obvious had no stomach for such things - much like his father. The man could not bear to watch the results Marcus' executions.

"…And finally," he said in a soft whisper, "I shall take her for myself - just before I kill her. And I shall enjoy her screams - as will you, for you will have to watch every single moment of her treatment, just like I promised."

"Now that wouldn't be nice."

Marcus sat bolt upright. Gryffindor was too busy being sick on the ground. He could not have said that. He slowly rose to his feet and turned.

An auburn-haired woman smiled at him. "Rowena Ravenclaw at your service, Sir Gregory. I believe we weren't introduced properly."

How could she have passed through his defences? He may have been a mediocre wizard at best, but this was his grand work!

He drew his wand and pointed it square at her chest. She did not bother even reaching for her own.

"Ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you, Gregory," another voice said just to Ravenclaw's right.

He whipped his head in that direction. "Rhys," he hissed.

The old man smiled. "I'm glad that even in your befuddled state you still recognize your old companions. As I was saying, I wouldn't recommend on hurting Rowena. You're surrounded."

From the shadows to either side, Slytherin, the Muggle born and Lady Gryffindor stepped into sight, wands in hands.

"Ah," Marcus said softly. "But now that all five of you are here… my trap can open."

With a flick of his wand, blue flames erupted all around, surrounding the five people, setting their clothes on fire. Then, before any of them had the time, to react, he started shooting thin, snakelike cords from his wand that wrapped themselves around the trapped fools.

Something was not quite right however. The five did not look panicked at all.

A stunning spell's beam of light missed his head by fractions of a distance. He whirled around and on his other side there were five others, smiling wolfishly.

"Why, hello, Marcus," one of them said, hissing. "Long time no see, eh? Practically since Gawain hurled you by the hair as far as he could. Where _have_ you been hiding all this time?"

"Yes," another said with an ugly undertone to his voice. "We searched _everywhere_ for sudden slaughters of Muggles - even after the Order disbanded. We were hoping so badly that you would slip and we'd be able to kill you and bring Gawain your head as a present."

Marcus' mouth went dry. "Brendan, Alban, Gwilym, Hallsteinn, Deiniol," he said, trying to keep his eyes on all five at the same time. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh," Deiniol smiled evilly. "Look, my friends. It seems like Gregory has missed a very important thing. You should have done you homework more carefully, dear boy. We happen to live here."

"No," Marcus stared in disbelief. "No, it can't be - I made sure-"

He had time just for one thing. He whirled again, and trained his wand on Ravenclaw, who stared at him defiantly. "DIE!" he screamed and let go the most powerful curse he knew.

Then there were beams of light all around him. He dodged and ran, sending his own hexes and curses in every which direction. He knew that whatever happened, at least he managed to complete his vengeance on Raven Lord.

Then something hit him, and he knew no more.

**A/N:** Okay, I admit, that was somewhat evil, and I really didn't mean things to get to that, but that was how it turned out…

Now that this is out of the way…

**HALFTIME!**

Yes, you have heard me right! With the end of Chapter 15 we have hit the precise middle of _Tale of a Time Long Gone_! There are 15 chapters and one Epilogue more to go, what do you think about that?

Well, this is it for today - I hope you have enjoyed the story so far and the chapter in particular. See you (hopefully) next week!

**And now, to my reviewers:**

**JakKat:** Heh, I never pretended for Godric to be an innocent soul, now have I? ;) Thank you!

**FizzingWhizbeez:** Indeed, too bad. But I'm sure they'll figure it out for themselves sooner or later. Was that soon enough:) Thanks!

**Gallon of Firewhiskey:** Thank you :) Snakes _would_ be blunt, don't you think? Seems characteristic to me. I have updated! I hope this was quick enough for you! Thanks again and see you 'round!

**She-Who-Snogs-Weasley-Boys:** The Gryff and the Bird is almost there, if you ask me - it's going to take just a little bit more of… tweaking, so to say. Thanks!

**SliverHawk 27:** Thank you very much:D

**Circe la Fay:** Oh, I think that Hogwarts is going to have a lot of explosions in the next thousand years or so - why start early? ((wink wink)) Thanks :)

**Innekeminneke:** What are they doing indeed? ;) Let's just say that it's not as innocent as Salazar would have us believe. Thank you very much!

**Rhysenn Riddle:** Here you go! Was that good (or rather, bad) enough a thing to happen to Godric? Thanks!

**Angelsword:** Glad to be of service! Thank you :D

**TimeWaitsForNoOne:** Happy to receive your review! Thank you so much - I really appreciate hearing that :)

**Jackie G:** I know cliffs are annoying, and I'm sorry I left this one in sort of a cliff - but I'm sure you understand the need for one in this chapter as well… I promise there won't be a lot of cliffs in my story - just when necessary! Please bear with me! Thank you for the review!

**aNiMe-AzN-aNgE**lThank you! I used to have a very loud argument with one of my friends about how the Founders look, but this is the appearance that got stuck in my brains - I'm glad that you like the way I've written it, even if you don't agree with it… :)

**Dragonfrost:** ((laughs)) yes, you _did_ have me worried there for a second - good one! Thank you very much! Hopefully this answers your hopes!

**Chibi-Cola:** You review for some reason got cut, but from the little that I received - I'm glad you love Maureen! Thank you!

**Well, it seems that this is it for now. I'm not entirely sure that I'll be able to update next week due to two pre-finals that I'm having in the course of the next week and a half, but after that I have a vacation from School, so if I don't update by Friday a week and a half from now, then I'll update once vacation starts.**

**Thank you for all you reviews, and I will see you again in Chapter 16!**

**-Star of the North**


	17. Heart Aches

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** ((enters the place, holding arms over face, expecting thrown objects)) I'm sorry I left you hanging for such a long time with that evil cliffie! (and believe me, quite a few people made sure that I'd know what an evil cliff that was… ((whimpers in fear))… but I really didn't mean it!).

Anyhoo, this chapter definitely doesn't end in a cliff, and I hope that you would all enjoy the happenings in it. I also hope it's not too long, but I simply could not cut it any shorter…

Enjoy!

**Chapter 16 – Heart Aches**

_"Long before the school became a fact. The Founders realized that in order to have a united establishment, that could in time pull others in its wake, they had to create a symbol for themselves. A coat of arms._

_"This, of course, was easier said than done, for the four had much more pressing business at hand, but as the first couple of years had passed, they understood that the need for the banner, for the symbol was much more urgent than they had first surmised_

_"Therefore, urged by others supporting their cause, they had created the crest that in years to come would appear on each and every official document leaving Hogwarts Castle…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Rowena opened her eyes. She dared not hope that she survived that spell without a scratch. It was obvious enough that it was not used in its full potency, for had it been the matter, she would have been gone.

She was on her back and there was something that felt like a tree root stuck in the small of her back.

All around her she could hear spells being shouted. Someone stumbled over her, making her shoot upright. The hasty movement resulted in a feeling of dizziness that soon subsided.

Taking a deep breath, she looked around her. Four of the five Knights who had accompanied them to Gregory's hideout were to one side, running after the apparently fleeing man, while the fifth remained behind to untie the others. She looked around, but failed to spot Godric.

"Rowena!" Helga cried the minute she was released and threw herself into Rowena's arms. "Don't _ever_ do that again!"

"Do what?" she asked in bewilderment. "I didn't do anything."

"_Scare_ me like that! You gave me such a fright!"

Rowena laughed weakly. She had given herself a fright. When the words had left Gregory's mouth she wished the world goodbye, and her last conscious thoughts revolved around Godric. She was quite mortified of what that might imply and resolved not to speak another word of it to anyone. Ever.

She tried to get up, but found herself gently restrained by Salazar's hand on her shoulder.

"You may cause yourself further damage, Rowena, and Godric will never forgive us that."

Ignoring what this may mean, she asked "Speaking of Godric - where _is_ that man?"

"The moment Deiniol set him loose he went after Gregory. The others will make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Define 'stupid'," she said dryly, masking her worry.

Shaking his head in suppressed mirth, he replied "Anything that Godric did, does and will do. That's according to normal people's definition."

"Correct. Then, assuming that Godric went after Gregory, unarmed and after he spent almost a week in captivity, very likely without food, water or much sleep, what can this be defined as?"

He sighed. "Very stupid?"

"True. Then what are you going to do?"

"I'm… going to bring him back and make sure he's in one piece so that you can make his life a living hell for giving you such a cause for worry?"

"Yes."

With a shrug of resignation, Salazar drew his wand and left.

Helga stayed by Rowena's side, taking note of any bruises and abrasions that she may have suffered by the failed spell. "You had better not move," she said gently. "We have no way to know whether this has gone without internal injury. I'll have the Knights carry you to the Loch when they're done with Gregory. Is there a Healer in the village, Ceridwen?"

Godric's mother, who was speaking quietly with Deiniol and Rhys, knelt beside the two women. "Yes, though not a very talented one. He'll do, I think. You don't seem to have any external damage, my dear Rowena, but Helga is right. I don't want you moving as yet. We'll take you to Angus first thing in the morning."

Then she got up again and resumed her conversation with the two men.

"Are you going to tell him?" Helga asked softly, looking directly into her eyes.

"Tell who what?" Rowena answered evasively, knowing only too well what Helga meant.

"Tell Godric, of course," Helga replied with exaggerated calm.

"Tell him what?"

"_Rowena_!"

"Honestly, I don't know what you're talking about."

"The day I'd believe that is the day I see Ambrosius dancing in front of the entire magic community wearing only his undergarments. I'll ask this just once more. Are you going to tell Godric now how you feel towards him?"

Rowena lowered her eyes, refusing to look at her friend. Helga always knew how to read her most covert secrets.

"I don't feel anything towards him," she denied, and then, knowing that Helga would not let her be otherwise, she feigned a swoon and fell back, closing her eyes and stifling a grunt as she hit the ground again.

She could hear Ceridwen letting out a surprised cry and felt the earth around her shudder as the older woman, Rhys and Deiniol knelt again beside her next to Helga.

"She's not well," Helga said for the others to hear, but then her mouth was next to Rowena's ear, and Rowena could clearly hear her whisper "_You and I are not finished yet, Raven. I know that you're faking. I'll get this out of you at another time - don't you dare thinking I let you off the hook_."

After a few minutes had passed, Rowena allowed herself to blink her eyes open and groan loudly. She did not think Helga believed any of that, but it was the best she could do on such a short notice.

"Are you feeling better, Mistress Ravenclaw?" Sir Deiniol asked as she raised herself slightly.

"Y…yes. I think I do. Are the others here?"

"No, not quite. But we heard them thrashing about in the trees ahead. From the sounds I'd say that they've got Gregory."

"Good," she said in a hard voice. "I'd like to have a few words with Master Gregory before they kill him."

"Ah!" she then heard Helga. "You're awake! I believe the men are coming back now."

Rowena did not miss the hard look the other woman sent her way.

A few moments later, the six men entered the enclosure, dragging behind them the limp body of Marcus Gregory, making sure his head would skim the ground and bump against every stone and tree root hidden in the damp earth.

Salazar was keeping a tight hold on Godric's arm. Godric himself looked a little unwell, but his eyes were angry. His expression, however, softened noticeably as he spotted her.

"Rowena! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" he said, nearly weeping in relief.

"Well, if I'm a sight for sore eyes, then you are what made them sore in the first place," she said snidely. She had no idea what caused her to say that, but it did not look as though he minded.

He knelt beside her and hugged her tightly. She stiffened. It was the first time he had touched her in something that was more than a restraining hand or a friendly clap on the shoulder.

It was not unpleasant.

She let out a squeak of pain as his arms squeezed her. He immediately let go.

"What's the matter?" he asked sharply.

"We still don't know, dear," Ceridwen said calmly. "We're taking her to the Loch and from there to Angus' first thing in the morning. She'll be fine, I warrant, but we had better make sure. Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes," he muttered, still searching Rowena's face for anything out of the ordinary.

She averted her eyes, only to meet the cunning expression of Salazar's eyes. He was up to something.

* * *

As she was carried on an improvised stretcher made of a few cloaks and held between four Knights, Rowena did not stop talking. She felt sharp pains in her abdomen and in the region of her rib cage, and even though she had little background in Healing she knew that this was not a good sign. By talking she managed to keep her mind off the pain, and apart of that, she had to make sure that Godric would not do something foolish again.

"Salazar?" she called to her friend, whom she knew what holding one of the corners of the stretcher.

"Yes, Rowena?" he asked in a voice that mirrored his concern.

"Oh, don't worry yourself over nothing. I'm sure I'm all right - I hardly feel any pain," she lied. "What is Godric doing?"

"He's lurking near Gregory. I had Rhys keep an eye on him - he wouldn't do anything that will cause himself harm."

"How is he faring?"

"Well enough. I don't think he will collapse anytime soon, but Rhys is also keeping an eye on him in this aspect. If he sees him so much as blink the wrong way he will put him to sleep and they will carry him the rest of the way. We're not too far from the village, though, so he should make it in one piece."

"I'm sorry I'm such a bother. I can walk by myself, you know. You don't have to carry me."

"Rowena…" he said in what could at best be described as a hard tone, "I don't believe you, so stop it. You're in a lot of pain. I can see it in your face."

She grimaced. "I am not."

All she got in response was an indignant silence.

"When shall we begin the new tutoring year?" she asked, again attempting to ignore the pain.

"First of all you have to get well, Raven," Helga's voice said dryly from her left. "You cannot expect to teach in this state."

"Nonsense," she said airily. "I'll be back on my feet in hours."

* * *

"Bed rest for three weeks," the scruffy man named Angus said with finality.

"Impossible," Rowena said angrily, trying to get up but finding herself being firmly kept down by the Healer. "I have things to do."

"Those things can either wait or be done from bed," he said in a voice that brook no argument. "If you do not rest then there will be irrevocable damage to your rib cage and various internal organs. I will have certain potions prepared for you. You must take precise amounts of them as I will prescribe. Now lean back and rest."

Grumbling, she did as ordered. She had attempted leaving the bed a few times that night, only to discover that there was someone nearby at all times to prevent her doing just that. They had woken her very early in the morning and loaded her on the improvised stretcher again. She felt like a cripple, and did not like that one bit.

Once Angus the Healer had brewed his potions, he handed them to Godric, who looked much better after a night of good sleep and two big meals, and instructed her friends in the amounts she must receive.

Then they moved her unto a borrowed cart and freighted her back to the house.

"You know," she said acidly to Godric who did not leave her side for a moment. "You were the one we were supposed to carry home in pieces - not I."

He smiled, though his smile was only half-hearted.

"What did you do with Gregory?" she pressed. She knew fully well that the Knights had taken the unconscious man somewhere right after they had placed her in Rhys' house under Lleulu's and Helga's care. She had no idea what they did with him, however.

His semi-smile turned into a full-fledged wolfish grin. "Don't worry about that, Rowena," he said, suddenly cheerful. "We took care of that mongrel. He will not be bothering us again."

He refused to say another thing, no matter how much she attempted coaxing him.

* * *

Rowena made the best out of her three weeks of forced rest. From the room she shared with Helga, restricted to her bed, she issued a string of commands concerning the future of the school.

Sitting up in bed, she conducted whole discussions concerning the lesson plans for each subject they would teach, sat with Salazar over the plans of the Castle, of the things still needed to be built, played Wizard's Chess against Helga and screamed at Godric who was usually to be found on the other side of the house.

They had accomplished much in those days, even though she was reluctant to admit it. She hated every minute she was kept in bed, and started loathing the mere sight of the walls of her bedchamber.

When Helga finally proclaimed the three weeks over, Rowena shot out of bed like an arrow and ran outside, whirling round and round and laughing like a little girl, caring little of the impression she made.

Behind her she could hear her friends laughing. She stopped her mad twirl and glared at them haughtily. "I can make a fool of myself if I wish so," she said, sniffing.

* * *

In what felt like no time at all, the summer season ended and all children were no longer employed in the various family businesses, giving them the time needed to study again.

On the first day of the second schooling year, the four friends could accompany their students all the way from and to the village without fearing detection. Now that they were a legitimate part of the Loch's society, everything seemed to be easier. They could get their supplies in broad daylight from the center of the village, and could be often found discussing all matters - from studies to reaping fields - in Calanthe's tavern or next to the smithy.

What did _not_ grow easier, however, was the teaching itself. When Rowena came on that first day to escort the children to the house, she was greatly surprised to discover that she had over forty children on her hands. The chatter was unbelievably loud and she started fearing that they would not be able to handle so many students when only two of them taught every day.

It was hard, to say the least. They soon found out that when the two women were the ones teaching, then the boys would take it as a sign to make noise and stop the process of studying. Even Dahlia's sons and Rhys' sons joined the mayhem, though in the year before their behaviour was impeccable.

They also discovered that when it was Godric's and Salazar's turn, then the girls will hush up and pretend to be shy.

In an act of desperation, the four decided that they needed to change tactic, and so it was that Rowena found herself teaching alongside Godric one day when autumn was just showing its first colours.

It was a stifling hot day, and Rowena was in a bad mood. Helga and Salazar had insisted on drawing straws again in order to decide who was to teach with whom. It was only her bad luck, she felt, that had caused her to be stuck with Godric on a day she found it hard to put a lid on her temper.

The day started out rather well. They sorted the children into groups by their age, and set a task for each. The younger ones were given some simple Charms to practice, while the older ones gathered around Godric to study the rudimentary rules of Phoenix Lore. Those students who had studied with him during the previous year helped him demonstrate.

It was then that the accident happened. Rowena was with her back turned to Godric, patiently helping a teary eleven year old in doing a simple levitation spell. She was so busy with that, that she missed hearing the dull thump and the scared intake of breath. She _did_ hear the scream that followed, though.

Terrified of what might have happened, she whirled around with her wand drawn. When she realized what she was seeing, she rushed over to the almost petrified students who were gathered around their fallen friend.

"Move!" she said harshly, pushing through them and kneeling beside Goronwy, Sir Rhys' son, who was writhing on the ground, clutching at his bleeding arm, a practice sword stained red by his side. She never had much success with Healing Charms, but Helga was too far off, and she feared that by the time someone would get her, Goronwy would lose too much blood.

Godric was already at work, tying a bit of cloth he had torn off the edge of his tunic tightly around the boy's upper arm, to stop the bleeding.

Muttering things that she probably should not have said near such young, impressionable children, Rowena touched her wand to the gaping wound and applied the most basic Healing Charm she knew. Luckily enough, it had work, catching her much by surprise.

After the crisis was taken care of, she had waited till the children went home for the day, Goronwy with his arm in a sling, clutching a letter full to the brim with apologies and explanations for Sir Rhys, to have a little talk with Godric.

"What were you _thinking_?" she hissed, stopping him just outside the house. "How could you have been so irresponsible?"

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, though his eyes shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm talking about letting them play with those bloody swords! Someone could have lost a limb - or worse! Killed!"

"You're exaggerating, Rowena. You do that a lot, you know that?"

"Exaggerating, am I?" she said scornfully. "Then how would you explain this little 'accident' we had today? You were in charge of that group! And you let Goronwy get hurt! He could have lost that arm, do you realize that?"

"He wouldn't have lost the arm. You're always making such a fuss over everything."

"Fuss? _Fuss_? Godric, we are responsible for the lives of these children when they are under our care! This could have been so much more serious!"

"But it wasn't, now was it?" he gritted. "Stop your self-righteousness, Rowena. You're not better than me in any way. I see you letting the children under _your_ care experiment-"

"_With simple Charms!_" she burst, throwing all pretenses to the winds, no longer keeping her voice down. "I let them experiment with simple, not harmful Charms! Not swords, Godric! Never swords!"

"You're so _full_ of yourself!" he shouted, also losing his temper. "You're so sure that you're the best thing that these children are ever going to have! You think that you're a better teacher than the rest of us and you're sure that you could have done better without us!

"Well, guess what, Mistress Ravenclaw - you are _nothing_ without us! You are a petty woman who keeps grudges and delves into dislike long dissipated. You wrap old hurt around you like a man would wrap a mantel! Grow up, will you? People don't like self-righteous women like you who think they are Merlin's gift to the world!

"You are nothing but a woman. There are dozens others of your kind - and I could go _anywhere_ to get someone else. Do you understand what I'm saying, Rowena? Do you?"

He was so close to her, his breath so warm against her face as he drew nearer and nearer until all she could see were his cold blue eyes. He seemed to search something in her face, but after a while in silence he drew back.

"No," he said in disgust. "I now see that you have no idea what I'm talking about. I have wasted my words. Grow up, Rowena. Grow up." And with those words he left in the direction of the Castle and Helga and Salazar who were still at work there.

* * *

She would not cry. No matter how hurt she was, she would not cry.

But the tears did not stop flowing, leaking from her eyes even though she tried her best to dam them in.

She sat in her bedroom, on the bed, and stared determinedly at the open window.

It was stifling hot inside the house, worse than the outside, and she wanted nothing more that go up to the much cooler castle. But _he_ was there now, putting the finishing touches to the last tower they had to complete, most likely. She did not wish to see him right now.

But then, why would _she_ be the one to hide her face? _He_ was the one who said all those awful things. He was the one in the wrong. He _should_ have been more careful, more watchful.

And the tears went on flowing.

* * *

"You need a symbol," Ceridwen told them one evening when she and the others arrived at the Castle for their weekly meeting.

"A symbol?" Godric asked, frowning at his mother's words.

Rowena wanted to know the same thing, but agreeing with Godric would mean having to talk to him, and she had successfully avoided doing _that_ for over a month. She waited for Ceridwen to explain herself.

"Last year someone mentioned something in passing - I think it was Brendan - that the groups that will come, once we manage to have their cooperation, will need to be gathered under one banner. Your banner. And right now, well, you _don't_ have a banner. We're more or less stuck on the matter of the groups - they need us to prove ourselves-"

"Oh, we've taken care of _that_ little obstacle," Salazar said with a rather ugly expression on his face.

"Oh?"

Rowena noticed that the five Knights who had helped in the rescue a few months earlier were also grinning evilly.

"Well, let's just say that we made sure that when Ambrosius' underlings found Marcus Gregory, there were enough people around to get word to those who also resist the Council. I'd expect messages to arrive soon enough. They are sometimes slow, but it'll come to them. They will want our help, Ceridwen. Don't worry."

She smiled. "Good. Then as I was saying, as this is more or less of a stalemate, we can think about those lesser matters for the time being. So please, think it over."

* * *

"Well, it's easy for Rowena," Godric said after the village people left. "But what about the rest of us?"

"Pray tell," she said angrily, speaking to him directly for the first time in a month. "Why is it easier for me?"

"Because your family already _has_ a symbol, Rowena dear. Do you forget you father's coat of arms?"

"The eagle?" she said skeptically.

"Yes, the eagle."

"A bronze eagle on a blue background?"

"Why not?" Salazar butted in." Blue _is_ your favourite colour, isn't it?"

"I suppose so."

"Salazar's easy, too," Helga said.

"Oh?" Salazar asked mildly.

"Well, you're a Parselmouth, aren't you? Make it a snake."

Salazar closed his eyes, and Rowena thought it looked as though he was trying to picture his coat of arms. After a while of silent thinking, a smile spread on his face. "Why not?" he asked. "And I'll take the colours of my line. Silver and green. It should have a very nice effect."

"I have one for Godric," Rowena said with a grin. "I have a riddle for you my, friends. What is imprudently brave, outrageously boastful, and extremely protective?"

"Hey!" Godric exclaimed. "That's not fair! I didn't insult _you_, now did I?"

"It wasn't meant as an insult, Godric," she replied, placating him, deciding that the month of silence was good enough a punishment. "I was merely reliving your run after Gregory last summer without a wand and in a weakened state. I think it's quite appropriate."

"I don't follow your reasoning, Rowena," Salazar admitted. "What kind of beast is it?"

"Why, a lion, of course," she replied cheerfully. "They are very brave, boastful of their power and very protective of their territory. Oh," she then added almost as an afterthought. "They also let their females do the hunting for them, the lazy things. I think they'd have them cooking their food for them - if only they knew how to cook." She gave Godric a cheery grin.

He growled threateningly, but his eyes showed otherwise. He liked the idea.

"Scarlet and gold, I think," Salazar said finally, again with his eyes closed. "Your line's colours, and besides, lions are golden - it fits perfectly. Rowena - I proclaim you a genius!"

They still had to find something for Helga, and that proved to be difficult. She was not of a noble line, so she had no coat of arms nor did she have hereditary colours. They all sat around the table, pondering that problem for a while.

"All right," Godric said. "We three have animals as our symbols, right? So most likely Helga's should be an animal as well. It's a bit simpler if we think about it this way. What can Helga be described as?"

"Err… friendly?" Salazar offered. Rowena caught a certain glance between the two and saw Helga blushing. She felt her lips curl into a smile.

"Sweet," she added.

"Good-natured."

"Loyal."

"Protective."

"Perceptive."

"Bloody stubborn."

"Are we finally admitting something about ourselves, Rowena?"

"Shut it, Godric."

"Why stubborn?" Salazar asked with a frown. "Helga is the most placating, quiet and self-effacing person I know. She never insists - much."

Rowena snorted. "You're blinded by your own heart, Salazar," she said. "May I remind you that you did not want Helga to accompany us to begin with? She managed to come all the same, did she not? When she wants something, our sweet little friend has a will of iron."

"That aside," Helga interrupted, her cheeks red, "That brings us no closer to finding me a symbol."

"Maybe we should offer you animals?" Godric asked. "How about a gazelle?"

"Too cowardly. Helga is no coward," Rowena countered. "A dove, perhaps?"

"Too timid," Salazar said, shaking his head. "A bear?"

"No. That's horrible. A fish?"

"That's _disgusting_, Godric. A fox?"

"It's simply not-"

"Enough!" Helga cried. "That's quite enough, thank you. Frankly, I don't care if my symbol is a rabbit, or an earthworm or a… or a… or a badger, for all I care! I don't _care_. I just want us to have a school coat of arms already so that we can unite our allies under one banner. Can we please get on with it?"

The other three exchanged glances.

"Fierce when angered," Godric said.

"I told you she was stubborn," Rowena said with a grin.

"But what of the colours?" Salazar asked.

"Well," Godric frowned, gazing at the confused Helga. "The animal's black, isn't it?"

"Black and white," Rowena corrected. "It's striped, but I suppose that in the banner it can be just black. True physical appearances don't matter much in heraldry, as far as I can see. What about the background?"

"Yellow," Salazar said with finality. "Like the colour of her hair."

"What are you all talking about?" Helga demanded.

Rowena almost laughed at her friend's discomfort. "Why, about your coat of arms, of course. Didn't you just say that you wanted a badger? I think we're done for tonight then. Come along, Helga. Let us go to sleep."

And with that she swept her confused friend with her to their rooms.

* * *

By the time the snows set in that year, Salazar had finally planned and drawn the final version of Hogwarts' coat of arms. It had taken him a long time, longer than she had first estimated. He was often found at the hall up at the Castle, scribbling furiously and then crumpling the parchments he had been working on and throwing them as far as he could.

The Castle itself was mostly completed by that time. There were no longer open roofs through which snow could come in. Not everything inside was prepared, though. There were still dungeons to repair, flights of stairs to complete and many rooms to furnish. However, as the winter snows became deeper and the little house made them all feel cramped and closed off, they made a decision.

And so, while Salazar was still firmly attached to one of the benches in the council chamber, drawing and redrawing, the other three furnished a few rooms for their own use and moved all their personal effects to the Castle. They had abandoned the house and planned on making the Castle a habitable place during those weeks when the heavy snow did not allow their students to come.

When Salazar came to them with the complete drawing, Rowena, Godric and Helga were busily converting the huge space beneath the council chamber into kitchens. They assumed that they would have many students in the future, and that was the deciding matter in choosing the cavernous room for that use.

"I've completed our coat of arms!" Salazar came bounding through the door, waving his parchment aloft. He halted when he saw the big brick fireplace they were constructing. "What in Merlin's name is that?"

"This, my dear Salazar," Helga said with a smile, "Is the kitchen. You _were_ going to feed all those children that will come to study in Hogwarts, were you?"

He grimaced, but did not have the opportunity to say anything, for Rowena took advantage of his preoccupation to snatch his newest work of art from his hands.

Her eyes grew wide when she saw the results of so many weeks of work.

Around a large, elaborate _H_, were four animals, each in its own boundary within the shape of a shield: A golden Lion on a scarlet background, a silver Serpent on a green background, a bronze Eagle on a blue background, and finally a black badger on a yellow background.

Beneath the shield there was a legend written in Latin.

_Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus_.

She looked up from the parchment with a raised eyebrow. "Never tickle a sleeping dragon?"

He shrugged with a bright smile on his face. "It never hurt to enter a piece of wisdom into coats of arms, now did it? Would _you_ tickle a sleeping dragon?"

"You would not find me getting near a dragon, Salazar - ever."

* * *

Rowena's and Godric's relationship suffered a great drop as the year went on. No matter what they did, they always ended up fighting. Even the most casual remark often ended in an uproarious fight.

Rowena did not understand why she was doing that. She would tease Godric, or insult him, and he in return would flirt outrageously with Calanthe when they entered her tavern. After he did that, she could not stop herself from making snide remarks, that made his face cloud over and then verbal fights would ensue. Then they would not talk to each other for a long while. Then it would all start over again, and she did not know how to stop it. She simply did not.

* * *

"-You stupid, arrogant _pig_!" Rowena screeched.

"It's not like you are any better!" Godric shouted, his face growing red.

"Not better, am I?" she growled. Deep inside she knew that what she was about to do next would be real trouble, but she was simply too angry, too insulted to stop herself. "I'll tell you what makes me a better person than you are, Godric Gryffindor!

"For one, I am not a notorious drunkard who can't hold her ale. For another, I am not the one often seen in the tavern groping that - that slut of a tavern wench - any given time.

"I'm not the one making a fool of myself on constant occasion! I'm not the one who has the image of a buffoon in the Loch! I'm not the one who is content wallowing in the mud with the pigs at the end of an evening! I'm not the one who comes home late every night, reeking of ale and spoilt foods, singing loudly for all the world to hear!

"You are slimy idiot with the brains of a bird, who thinks he is all high and mighty because he is the heir of Gawain Gryffindor.

"So let me tell you something. You are nothing but a stain on your family tree. You shame your father's name and you are not worthy to carry the surname of Gryffindor! You are-"

She did not get to finish the sentence, for at that moment, Godric said in a low, deadly voice "All you are about to tell me now, Rowena, you say about yourself. Spare me your need of self-bashing. Grow up." And with that he turned on his heel and left, his shoulders shaking in some suppressed emotion.

Rowena stared after him for a while and then ran away, whimpering.

* * *

There was a knock on the door. It was more than a sharp rap than anything else, and it conveyed the meaning of the one behind the door. This person meant business.

Rowena mumbled a quiet "Come in."

The one to enter was Helga, whose face was like a thundercloud, dark and menacing.

"I hope you're pleased with what you have done, Rowena," she said, turning on Rowena the moment she entered the comfortable room they had built on the ground floor for them all to sit and simply enjoy evenings there, where Rowena had taken refuge after her fight with Godric.

"What are you talking about?" Rowena muttered bitterly, hugging one of the frilly pillows Helga liked so much to her chest.

"I'm talking about the things you said to Godric," Helga snapped. "That's what I'm talking about! What else could it be, Rowena? You made the poor man so depressed - I wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to simply die after the things you said!"

"Godric would never do that," Rowena scoffed. "He's sensible."

"Sensible, my arse!" Helga cried. It was this more than anything else that made Rowena sit up straight and stare at her friend. Helga never cursed. "He's in love with you, you foolish girl! He loved you for so long that I can't even pinpoint the moment I noticed it! And you! You feel the same and you never allowed him to see that! You've both been miserable for ages, snapping at each other and snapping at us, hurting each other more and more, and not once did you admit your real feelings to each other!

"Well, I have _had_ it!" Helga's voice rose to a near screech. "Godric stormed off now and if he does something idiotic just because of the things _you_ said, then I will never, ever forgive you! Do you understand? Never!"

Rowena was appalled. She had never seen her friend act like this, Helga was angry with her many times before, but never like this. And what was worse, she knew that the other woman was right. She knew that she should have spoken with Godric before, but her pride did not let her say anything.

"Where is he?" she finally asked, fearing the answer.

"Outside," Helga replied coldly. "Probably catching his death in this rain."

Letting out a muffled cry of alarm, Rowena jumped out of her seat and dashed out of the room in the direction of the entrance hall and the grounds. Behind her she could hear Helga desperately shouting "Wait! Take your cloak!" but ignored her. The corridor leading from the room to the entrance hall never seemed longer. As she ran down it, she felt as though it had lasted for hours.

Finally she broke into the hall, nearly slipped on the cold stones as she whirled right sharply and bolted out of the open doors. She skidded into a halt on the slippery, wet cobblestones of the grand entrance and looked around, squinting to keep the rain out of her eyes. It was hard to keep her eyes open, because the wind that howled around her made her want to squeeze them shut. But she had to find him before something would happen.

She saw nothing. The lake, a sheet of steely-grey, was the only clear thing she could recognize. The forest was a hazy, dark mass against the cast sky, and the falling rain obscured everything else.

"Godric!" she screamed. "Godric!"

When she received no answer, Rowena half ran, half slipped down towards the lake, screaming his name against the howling gale every few steps.

Tears streamed from her eyes, warm and salty, mingling with the cold drops of rain that fell on her face and drenched her dress and hair. The wind released her hair from its careful binds, slapping it against her face with force. It snagged the hem of her dress on rocks and thorns and torn it into tatters. Her dress was muddy and wet as it clung to her flesh, but she did not care. She had to find Godric, and she had to find him immediately.

"Godric!" she cried again, her voice cracked and choked with tears.

Without warning, someone grabbed her arm. A big hand clapped around her wrist.

"Rowena!" Godric roared over the scream of the wind. "What are you _doing_? Out here in the rain with no cloak? Come on!"

Numbly, she let him drag her along. She had no idea where they were. She knew they were not that far from the Castle, but he was not taking her uphill.

Then they were in front of their old house. Godric wrestled the door open and pushed her inside, and then firmly set her on a stack of hay and scurried off. Only then, when she was out of the rain and wind, did she realize just how wet and cold she was. She started shivering.

In the back she could hear Godric muttering profanities as he did something in what used to be their kitchen. When he came back, he again unceremoniously took hold of her arm and pulled her up, dragging her into the other room.

"Sit," he ordered gruffly, and as she obeyed, she saw that he had lit a fire in the grate. He settled himself beside her and stared at the flames. For a while she shivered uncontrollably. Once the shivers subsided, however, he took his gaze away from the fire and started scolding her.

"What were you _thinking_, Rowena?" he asked in the same gruff tone. "Out in the rain, with no coat or cloak? Without your wand? Just in what can be at best called your nightshift? You could have frozen to death if I had not found you! You could have died, Rowena, did you even realize that? If Helga hadn't come and told me you ran off-"

Rowena, suddenly in control again, flared. "Helga? Helga told me that you stormed off after our-" her voice died out.

"That's preposterous!" he exclaimed. "Helga knew perfectly well that Salazar and I were in the tower. She-"

"They tricked us," Rowena said angrily. "They wanted us to talk again after our… our… our…" she could not bring herself to say it.

"Our what, Rowena?" he asked softly. "Can't you even say it? Our fight."

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. For a few minutes she was certain that she had lost him forever. She was sure that he had been swept into the lake or froze to death, or any number of unpleasant ends. For a few minutes she thought she had lost everything because of a foolish fight. She looked at him, his face still wet, his eyes gleaming in the firelight.

"I don't want to believe that you'd be foolish enough as to run off into a storm like that over nothing," he said softly, his voice barely over a whisper. He slowly raised his hand and touched it to her cheek. His thumb caressed her skin, rough and callused against it. She did not want him to let go.

"Rowena…" he began, his hand slowly withdrawing, sadness in his eyes.

"Godric," she said firmly, all former anger, worry and tears gone. "Do I have to do _everything_ around here by myself?"

Smiling softly at his obvious confusion, she held his face between her palms, and closed the distance between them.

For a moment Godric sat frozen as her lips met his own, but before she could start wondering whether she had misinterpreted his meaning, his lips softened over hers and returned the gesture.

She felt his arms leaving his sides and wrapping themselves around her.

For the first time in a very long while, Rowena Ravenclaw was happy.

**A/N:** Well, that's it for today! Are you happy now? Or was it not a good chapter? Tell me what you think! I appreciate every review I receive.

**Circe La Fay:** Sorry, my illness stopped right after I uploaded the previous chapter… :D Thank you, and hopefully you will continue liking my story!

**Roe Merrifield:** Welcome back! Yes, I hated Marcus Gregory, too. I'm rather proud of him coming out that way, really. I mean, I'm the writer and I hated him to bits! Thank you very much for reviewing, and I assure you that Gregory would return, and you will all hear about what the Knights had done to him…

**Si-FiAdict246:** Still mad? ;)

**Jackie G:** Sorry! I assure you that it was necessary! Promise!

**TimeWaitsForNoOne:** Gregory's end will come in one of the next chapters. Please keep any sadistic compulsions under control - I know I'm having trouble controlling mine concerning _that_ git… Thank you very much!

**Innekeminneke:** Thank you very much for both your good luck and your review :) Both Ceridwen and Rosalind would appear in future chapters, though Rosalind would appear somewhat later. She's rather reluctant leaving the safe haven she finds in the Glen.

**Rhysenn Riddle:** Thanks! I hope this is up to standards!

**Frigabi:** Oh, I'm sure those two could come up with a way. They are _very_ creative after all… Thanks ((laughs)) I rather liked it myself.

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**So thank you all again for reviewing and/or reading this story. I will do my best to update again soon - should be easier, what with my vacation from school… expect a new chapter soon!**

**Love,**

**Star of the North **


	18. Schemes

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Hello, everyone. I would like to begin with a _HUGE_ apology to you all. It's been almost four months since I last updated, and I am really angry with myself. In those past few months I had many things to do, that much is true, but that is no excuse for this great delay. All I can say is that I had a lot on my mind, and I wasn't in the right mindset to write this story.

On the up side, I have a lot of this story already written - though in parts, so I hope the next update would be up in no time ((holds fingers crossed))

I hoped none of you have given up on me, and that this chapter is not a great disappointment after the long wait.

Replies to reviews, are, as usual, at the end of the chapter.

I would like to give special thanks to **FizzingWhizbeez** for her constant harassing whenever I reviewed one of her stories, which were, in essence, the thing that pushed me most into completing this chapter.

I love you all!

Enjoy!

**Chapter 17 – Schemes**

_"The division of Hogwarts into four Houses was made quite early on. It was decided upon when it became apparent that each Founder favoured certain students and preferred working with them. It also became harder for all four to rule over a growing number of children._

_"Therefore, before the fourth year of the school's existence, the four decided that each of them will pick part of the students and they will take care of them, make sure they do their homework and if not - be punished._

_"They had also decided that if any student needed help or had a complaint to lodge, they will need to go to their personal tutor._ _This system shall be discussed in detail in the chapter dedicated to the school's management through the years._

_"In that selfsame time, the Founders were faced by yet another obstacle, and this time, it was in an entirely different front. Once they managed to settle their alliance with the various groups opposing Lord Ambrosius and his minions and began the rudimentary stages of preparing for war, it became obvious that they needed inside information of the goings of the Council. This, naturally, was much harder a task than any other they had encountered up to that stage._

_"The Founders ruled out bribery right at the onset, for they surmised that one who can be bought will not necessarily remain bought if better payment is offered._

_"They could not count on patriotism, either, for in their eyes all members were now corrupt and completely devoted to their own enjoyments._

_"What was left then? The members of the Council were out of the question, as were the Servants, for they, unlike Godric and Salazar, were not strong enough to throw the will of the Council._

_"Only one option was therefore left for the Founders…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

The fire crackled pleasantly in the hearth at Helga's room. The room was very comfortable and welcoming. The stone walls were covered by golden sheepskins in order to restrain the cold that they always radiated, but Helga swore to herself that one day it would have tapestries and not crude bits of animals - and if not, well, a few warming charms were always an option. Similar skins were on the floor. Heavy, dull-red, velvety curtains hung closed over the shuttered windows. The wind howled and banged against the shutters, causing Helga to snuggle closer to Salazar on the low divan in front of the fire.

"It's rather sinister, isn't it?" she murmured, shivering slightly.

He merely made a grunting sound and held her tightly to him.

Outside, the rain started pounding with force. It was a horrible day to be outside, rainy and dark, with random thunder and lightening at times. The wind was like knives against the skin and it was bitingly cold. Helga was glad she was inside by the fire.

All of a sudden, something occurred to her. "Err… Salazar? You don't suppose Godric hadn't found Raven as yet, do you?"

By her side, Salazar stretched. "No, I don't suppose that. Godric is a good tracker, and he shouldn't have any problem finding her. I'm sure he has her back in the Castle by now. Don't be so worried."

Somewhat reassured, she settled back down and closed her eyes. It was so nice and warm, and she felt safe in the arms of a man she knew loved her.

The evening wore on, and Helga dozed through it, quite content to stay there forever - a state of mind which survived not even a minute after the fire died down in the grate.

"We're out of firewood," Salazar grunted, stirring awake and glancing at the open box by the wall.

"_Again?_" she whined. "We just had them filled yesterday!"

Sitting up, no longer feeling in a mood to laze about, Helga folded her legs up and put her chin to her knees, her brow furrowed. In the past month they wasted a lot of time on chopping wood and hauling it up to the Castle. Even with magic it took time. They needed that time for other things, and there was simply nothing they could do about that. Or was there?

"Salazar?" she called softly, noticing that he was already dozing again.

"Hmm?"

"We need help."

His eyes opened and he frowned. "What are you talking about, Helga? Is there something wrong with us?"

She stared at him and then laughed. "I'm not talking about _us_ us, Salazar. I'm talking about help around the Castle. We waste so much time on manual works, when we could use that time to do things for the students, the school and the rebellion. We need someone to do the cooking, to clean up, to chop wood - all these tasks that bother us daily."

"Then we hire a few people at the village, what's the problem?"

"It will not do. We need to think larger than that. This is a big Castle, and when we have it all good and proper, with dormitories for the children, and three meals a day, and classes, and privies and everything, few people will not be able to be all that much help."

"Then what are you suggesting?"

Helga shrugged helplessly. She had no idea what could be done. Of course, they could hire help at the village - but what could they offer their workers? They did not have anything to offer but their teaching skills, and not all the people in the village had children or were interested in their services. They would need a lot of workers - cooks, maids, laundresses, gardeners… there was too much work to dispense. Also, human beings demanded payment for their services - Merlin, she knew that all too well - so they needed to find those who would ask for the littlest amount as they did not have much to give.

Staring blankly at the wall for a while, examining the crevices between the stones they had piled up themselves, she tried to think it over. They needed someone with creative thinking. Then she almost laughed. The answer was in the question.

"I'll go tomorrow to the village and have a word with Ceridwen. I'm sure she can come up with a few ideas."

"Very well, but I suggest we all go - and Rowena and Godric should be told about it as well. Goodnight, Helga," he said with a smile and got up. "I had better go to my room. I'm sure Godric is already there, ready to shout at me for manipulating him."

She chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised to see Rowena at the door this minute, steaming at me. Ah, well. Goodnight."

He smiled again, kissed her softly and left.

Rowena never appeared at Helga's door that night. Neither did she show her face the next morning when Helga entered the kitchens for a spot of breakfast. In fact, it was well after the sun started rising above the still-dark clouds that hovered over the Castle when she had finally appeared, and by then Helga was mentally kicking herself, worrying endlessly about what might have happened to her friend out in the storm. She could not believe that she had been as stupid as that. For all she knew, Rowena could have fallen into the lake accidentally and drowned. Therefore, when the auburn haired woman finally walked into the entrance hall squelching water all over the polished flagstones out of her sodden shoes, her hair a complete mess and with bits of straw in it and all over her dress, Helga immediately threw herself at the other woman, mumbling apologies.

"Ooh, Raven, are you all right? I was so _worried_!"

"Worried? You?" Rowena said scornfully. "You, who practically threw me out into the storm in order to look for someone who was safely up in the tower with Salazar, dry and entirely all right? You were _worried_?"

"Umm…" Helga did not know what to say. Something felt immensely wrong. Rowena was angry, and she admittedly had all the reasons in the world to be angry, but something was not quite right. Was it a twinkle of mirth in those hazel eyes? Were those lips quirking into a light, barely noticeable smirk? What was Rowena playing at? Anxious, Helga started feeling her face and hair, looking for something wrong. She just _knew_ Rowena had done something for revenge. Did she charm her hair a different colour? Did she change the shape of her nose? Everything seemed to be in place, so why did Helga feel sure that something was terribly wrong?

It was only when Rowena started laughing, and then doubled over with the force of it that Helga realized that the joke was on her. Rowena was not angry at all. In fact, she was in very high spirits, and the moment she calmed down, she gave Helga a warm hug.

"Merlin knows, I should hex you into Hades and back for what you and that wretched Salazar did, but I find myself in a position where I must forgive, if not forget," Rowena said with a smile.

"Then… then it worked? Did you… resolve your differences?"

"You could say that," Rowena's smirk widened. "But I don't know what about Godric's and Salazar's differences."

"Pardon?"

Rowena nodded at something behind Helga's back. The younger girl turned and a scream froze in her throat. In the middle of the grand staircase stood Godric, his wand pointed upwards. He was twirling Salazar around like a rag doll in the air, making shapes of numbers and runes with the poor man.

"I'm afraid he was rather angered when he realized we've been fooled," behind her Rowena said calmly. "He would thank him later, of course, but right now he's quite happy to take his revenge." Then she turned, and with a cheery hum, she turned away from Helga in the general direction of her chambers.

Quite a few hours, one dizziness-countering potion, and one rather wobbly journey to the Loch later, the four friends were seated in Rhys' kitchen while Ceridwen was making some tea and Lleulu was cutting a freshly baked cake for them. Sir Rhys was busy laughing at a still dazed Salazar's predicament, and Ceridwen was not-too-secretly overjoyed with the fact that her son and the girl she held in such high esteem finally admitted to be fond of each other.

"So what is it that you needed this time?" Rhys asked pleasantly once he deemed to have laughed at Salazar's expanse for long enough. "We would have told you if we had anything new. We still haven't managed contacting anyone with inside knowledge of the Council, so there's nothing more to do than follow the movements of the Chamber Guard and the Servants."

"Yes, we know that," Godric said rather sourly. "It's getting to be quite depressing, if you ask me."

"Think about it this way, dear," Ceridwen said, releasing Lleulu to spend time with her husband, "they are just as depressed as we are. They don't have much more information about you than we have about them - not since we got rid of Gregory, anyway. So if it isn't information, then what is it?"

Godric looked at Salazar and Helga. "Would one of you do the honours?"

Helga spoke before Salazar could so much as open his mouth. After all, it _was_ her idea, and for once she wanted some of the acknowledgment. "Salazar and I noticed that we spend more time on manual works needed to maintain a reasonable level of quality in the Castle than on actually teaching or actively working on the rebellion - you have been doing most of the work for us in that aspect. We need help, but we cannot hire people or more than a few people anyway, we simply don't have the resources. We thought we would have a word with you - see if you can come up with something."

The two looked at one another, considering her words.

"Well…" Rhys finally said. "You could always use cleaning charms that last longer. I know that Rowena works on new charms at times, so maybe it could be your next project?"

Rowena shook her head dejectedly. "It would take a very long time, and besides, it still takes time, and we still have to cook noon meals for the children or bring in wood for the fires. It just would not do."

They all lapsed into silence again. Helga, however, kept her eyes on Ceridwen. The older woman always had strange and often logical solutions for their problems. There was no reason why she would not come up with something this time. For the time being, Ceridwen closed her eyes, deep lines etched in her forehead as she frowned over the problem. When she reached a conclusion, it was like watching the sun come out of a dark blanket of clouds. The lines of thought disappeared entirely, her eyes opened wide, and a bright smile appeared on her lips.

"It might be a little hard to actually _do_," she said cautiously, catching everyone's attention, "but it is possible. Have any of you heard of House Elves?"

There was a general shaking of heads and a collective frown as Ceridwen went on.

"They are a small group of magical beings. There are not many of them - couple hundred in the entire island - a few more in Ireland, but nothing major. They live in small communities all over the country and their sole enjoyment in life is to serve humans. We could procure a few of those and everything will be easier on you. They have their own particular magic which enables them to do a great amount of work with only a little bit of effort. They would be perfect."

"Where did you hear about them?" Rowena asked with interest shinning from her eyes. Helga almost laughed. Her friend looked like a child offered a sweet.

"I was a member of a very important family, my dear Rowena. House Elves can be afforded by only the richest of families. They are very valuable."

"Then how are we supposed to get hold of a few?" Godric grumbled.

"I have some contacts," she replied earnestly. "They might be willing to give them in return for free education for their children, but they would probably refuse if they do not receive board for the school year. They can hardly be expected to have their children traveling back and forth all the time. I'll make the arrangements, if you would like, but start thinking about sleeping quarters for children coming from afar - it would be a good idea either way. It will bring you more students for one."

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Over the next year, the four saw the truth in Ceridwen's words. Though many people from all over the isles heard about the new school founded up in the north, none of them agreed to send their children there until they could be certain that the children would have a place to live during the year. This left the school the same size as it had been for a couple of years already, and there was a definite lack of certain things such as furniture and cooking-ware and decorations. Also, they wanted to be connected to as many people as possible when the time would come, and through the children was their best option.

During the better part of that year there was not much change in their Rebellion Front as they had taken to call it. They were approached tentatively by a few groups resisting Ambrosius, but nothing concrete came out of it, since they were not willing to do much before they had reliable information about the goings of the Council.

They had attempted to contact people who were close to the members of the Council, but that was too risky, and some of their contacts almost lost their lives during those attempts, for many of those people whom they wanted to reach were too loyal, or sometimes too well bribed.

As for Godric and Rowena, it was hard at first for Helga to see a change in their behaviour. Though they obviously felt deeply for each other, they still argued - a _lot_. They would often be found shouting at each other and sometimes for days they ignored each other. One such case was when Godric visited Calanthe's tavern again without telling anyone where he was going. He had missed dinner, and a very worried Rowena turned into a very disgruntled Rowena, eventually giving Godric a silence treatment for over a week.

Then, however, were the times when they were so sweet to each other, such as when Godric pulled back a chair for Rowena at dinner, or when she had helped him with a tricky charm, and then Helga and Salazar would gleefully exchange glances and congratulate themselves for their brilliance.

It was only about halfway through spring of their third year in Hogwarts when they had had their first success. They were all in the middle of either classes or cooking when Rhys' son, Ilar, came running, his cheeks flushed, stuttering at Helga that his father wanted to see them immediately. The poor boy could hardly string two words together. Surprised and worried, they dismissed their students and went as fast as their mounts could carry them to the village.

"I want you to meet someone," Rhys said with a tired smile once Ceridwen let them in and shooed the rest of the family to their respective businesses. The only other person in the room was a weary-looking, lanky man, who sat, exhausted, with his feet propped up on the rough-hewn bench.

"Oh?" Godric asked curiously, sending a sidelong glance at the stranger. Helga had to admit that she herself was rather curious. They did not expect to be summoned in the middle of a school day to the Loch for a meeting. It must have been very important for Rhys to call for them. She, too, wondered who that man was, and why he was there to begin with.

"As you know, we've been trying to get someone into Stonehenge for quite a while, but failed each time," Rhys said, pouring each of them wine of the dark red variety Salazar was so fond of, making Helga want to raise an eyebrow. Were they celebrating something? "We tried getting to members of the Lower House, but they were suspicious of us and would not even listen. They dislike having to actually work, as Godric and Salazar most certainly know, and they are comfortable with their position. They will not help. However, Ceridwen thought of something, and I am ashamed to admit that I didn't think about it myself. I can only excuse myself by saying that she was at the Council Chamber for many more times than I." He coughed shortly to clear his throat and continued. "What Ceridwen said, was that during the Council's most sensitive of discussions there are still non-members attending."

"Non-members?" Helga frowned. "I don't remember seeing anyone who was not a member. Of course that could be because I was so frightened at the time for Rowena and Godric, but - what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the servants."

"No Servant would help us," Salazar said in disgust. "You should know that, Rhys. They cannot disobey Ambrosius and the rest. We're an exception, Godric and I."

"I know that, Salazar," Rhys said patiently. "However, I wasn't speaking of Servants of the Council. I was talking about a manservant. One of the butlers serving the Lords of the Council. They are always present. Unobtrusive, of course, but always there in case the Lords need something dispatched, or some food brought in."

They all sat quietly for a while, thinking this over. In her mind, Helga returned to that day four years before, when they walked through the Servants' Chamber doors into the Council Chamber. Were there menservants there? She pictured the immense hall, with its black and white marble slabs creating confusing designs on walls, floor and ceiling. She concentrated on her sketchy-at-best memories of her short time there. It was a frightening time - before she knew what would happen to them. A time before Hogwarts. She frowned. She couldn't remember any menservants.

But then… Wasn't there a man who came and led them out to Ambrosius' quarters?

Rhys saw her expression of apprehension and smiled. "Yes. There's a whole army of menservants in that chamber, and not many are aware of its existence. Luckily for us, Ceridwen and I are of those few.

"Two weeks ago the Council held its annual choosing of three new menservants. It is a respectable, profitable position and many a young man with great hopes for the future fight over it. There were more than a hundred youths trying for those three positions.

This," Rhys gestured at the weary-looking man now sitting with his hands in his lap, politely listening, "-is Marlowe Cane - the newest member of the Menservants of the Council, the son of an old friend." He seemed to be drawing those last words almost as though he relished them.

"The son of an old friend, eh?" Godric said with a barely concealed grin, now observing the man with great interest, his eyes bright with excitement. "Not Old Oswald's son?"

The man nodded with a slight smile. "That is my father."

"Merlin, Rhys!" Godric burst out laughing, finally losing his grip on his mirth. "How did you get Oswald Cane's son to be a member of the Menservants? Ambrosius _hates_ him!"

"Oh, he hates my father, certainly," Marlowe said with a slow smile warming his gaunt features. "I do believe that this very reason made him take me into service. You know - 'Old Oswald's boy bound in servitude' to him and all that. He couldn't resist it."

"Who is Old Oswald?" Rowena asked curiously, mirroring Helga's own curiosity.

To their surprise, Godric and Salazar exchanged glances and then started laughing, their faces crinkled in glee.

"Oh, this is too precious!" Godric laughed. "Someone who doesn't know Old Oswald!"

Before Rowena could snap out something nasty, Salazar raised his hand to calm her. "He only means that if you know Ambrosius, you normally know Old Oswald. You see, Old Oswald isn't a nobleman. His family had never had a seat in the Council, nor did they have enough power to make their voice heard among the multitudes of sniveling, petty petitioners. Oh, no. Not the Canes. That was why Ambrosius never bothered himself with them when he was squabbling for position back before he was Chief Warlock.

"Then, about thirty or so years ago, when Ambrosius finally managed to get himself a place of favour with Lord Fenwick, he discovered the power of the Canes. Oh, yes, he did. I remember Ceridwen gloating about it years after. See, the thing with the Canes is, that they have a lot of money. They don't have rank or title, they don't have land - but they _do_ have a lot of money. They have businesses all over the Isles and in the mainland. They trade in _everything_, and they loan money to people, never pressing them for return, biding their time. Anything you want - no matter how bizarre or exotic, they can get you, for the right price. Therefore, they can allow themselves be generous. _Very_ generous. They assist anyone in trouble without expecting repayment. The people they help, however, feel grateful and if a Cane needs help, they would gladly help.

"So one day, Ambrosius does something to _really_ annoy Old Oswald. He tries to put his hands on Old Oswald's much younger, widowed sister - that was after your mother told him no very flatly, Rowena - and Oswald wouldn't have that. He knew of Ambrosius' attempted coercion of Rosalind Fitzpatrick and had no intention whatsoever to allow his sister to be victim of such a depraved man. He said no. Quite forcibly, at that."

"Oh?" Rowena asked, her displeasure with Godric long since faded into enchanted fascination.

"He had about half the people of York drag Ambrosius out and throw him into one of the smelliest, filthiest alleyways of the city. It was the greatest embarrassment the man had taken ever since Raven Lord had quite promptly thrown him cleanly out of Lady Rosalind's front door and into a muddy puddle. Since then he kept a grudge to Old Oswald, but he dares not do anything to annoy him again. Not to the man who can call about half of northern England to heel at will."

Helga, who was imagining that horrible Lord Ambrosius being thrown out to the street by the tired man she remembered Rowena's father to be, found that image ludicrous. She let out a chuckle which drew everybody's attention to her. She recovered quickly and asked "So, Master Cane, you _do_ realize that what we are asking of you to do may cost you your life?"

Marlowe nodded politely. "Yes, Mistress. I do realize that. But my family has been opposing Ambrosius for many years now. I am not going to disappoint my father or my Aunt Cassandra. So when word got to my father that up here in the north there are people who attempt getting rid of Ambrosius, he had asked me to help and this is what you need, so this is what I will do."

"You're a good man, Marlowe," Godric said. "Know that you will always find friends in us. Whenever you need help - just call on us, and we will be there."

"Thank you, Lord Gryffindor. Now, if you would excuse me, I would like to go and rest. It had been a long journey."

"Of course," Godric said pleasantly.

Once the man was gone, the four exchanged excited looks. The thought dominating their minds was that finally they had some luck. _Finally_ something turned out right.

For what was left of that school year, all four were much more energetic. Their students noticed the change as well, some even remarking about it. Not wishing to involve their students in the business of rebellion, they only smiled and shook their heads, but during late night meetings with Ceridwen and Rhys and the rest of their friends and helpers over the newest batch of information sent by Marlowe Cane, they could not help but feel that everything will be all right.

"I can't _do_ this anymore!" Rowena burst out one stormy evening after dinner. The summer was almost there, so Helga was surprised that the outburst was taking place at that particular time. There was less than a week until the children would be released for the summer, and she expected her friend to be in a much better mood. Rowena's long locks were out of their usual bun, giving her a disheveled appearance and she was pacing back and forth in their small, cosy drawing room, away from inquiring students. Helga noted to herself in hindsight that Rowena had been agitated all throughout dinner, but said nothing. Finally, with a desperate moan her friend let herself drop next to Godric and bury her face in his broad chest. He folded his arms around her, a bewildered expression on his face.

"What can't you do anymore, Raven?" Helga asked softly, deeming it safe enough now that Godric had a hold on the irritated woman, ready to restrain her if needed.

"What can't I do?" Rowena said in a shrill, panicky voice. "What can't _do_? Isn't it obvious Helga? It's not _working_ anymore, don't you see?"

"What isn't?"

"The _school_!"

"What do you mean it's not working, Rowena?" Salazar asked slowly, completely nonplussed at her reply.

For a moment there was silence. Ominous, breathtaking silence. The fire in the grate crackled loudly in Helga's ears, but no other sound was heard. In the dim light she could see the mix of emotions in Rowena's face growing more and more confusing, and it seemed as though even the woman herself could decided what she felt. At last, when the tension in the chamber was near exploding, Rowena let out a small whimper and whispered, barely heard through the fabric covering Godric's chest, "I don't know what to do anymore. Half of them wouldn't listen to me. They do not listen and they do not learn. They experiment with things that should not be experimented with without the proper cautions and they strife amongst themselves. Those who wish to study quietly are taunted and not allowed to do as they wish, and those who wish to experiment mess all my lessons. Am I that bad a teacher?"

All three others started talking together, attempting to assure her that she was a wonderful teacher and that the children adored her, but she continued to sniffle against Godric, refusing to listen, though it is doubtful that she even managed to make sense of what the three were saying. It was only when Salazar said that he had the same trouble in his own classes, Godric admitted that not all his students liked using the sword and Helga mumbled that not everyone had the patience for Ancient Runes that her sniffling died out.

The four sat brooding for a while. This was a problem, they all knew. They had about sixty students in the Castle now, in ages varying from eight to nineteen, and of different temperaments. Some were studious, some were loud and raucous. Some were diligent and hardworking, others were shrewd and sharp-witted. There were quiet ones and shy ones, bold and rakish. Not everyone liked all subjects, not everyone enjoyed learning that much and needed someone of specific temperament to help them.

Another problem was that each one of the four friends had a different view of things.

Rowena, clearly, was the studious one. She liked quiet, concentrated learning. She was strict and was not lenient. She expected her students to excel and would always push them towards that goal. Those who were not of her kind would find it hard to go through her lessons actually understanding something. She demanded a lot, and not all would be able to reach the expected level.

Godric, so different, was relaxed and easy-going with his students. He would more often than not share a lighthearted joke with the children; fascinate them with stories of his past as Servant of the Council and his grand escape from Stonehenge only a few years prior to that. Half his lessons would go to waste because of his tale-weaving. He liked the brash, loud students - those who would go into the forest on a dare, or would go into the Lake in the middle of winter just to see if they could do it. He would laugh at those jokes played on him by certain children, and gave them a lot of leeway.

Then there was Salazar, who favoured those who would approach a problem only after thinking devious, different ways to solve it. He liked them to think originally, unconventionally. In his eyes, those with that shrewdness of thought would be the great wizards and witches of future. He encouraged his students to use unusual means when facing his lessons, and would work for longer hours with those who used the normal ways. He wanted them all cunning and able to survive in the wide world by being unexpected.

And then there was she, Helga the Muggle born. Unlike her friends, she knew that not all people possessed the characteristics they favoured. She did not badger her students into doing things above their abilities. All she expected from them was to work hard - to do their best, and that was everything in her eyes. Just as long as they did not lazy about, she was willing to give them her all. Simple as that.

She opened her mouth. "I think we need to separate the children."

Three pairs of eyes turned to meet hers, frowns on all foreheads. Now what had made her say that?

"Well, it's obvious if you think about it, isn't it?" she asked lamely, still processing the idea in her mind.

"What _are_ you talking about, Helga?" Godric asked. "We already separated them into two classes of the younger and older ones. If we divide them further we're not going to be able to rest. The four of us would go crazy within a week."

"I… I didn't think about that specific obstacle," she admitted," but hear me out, Godric, before you press judgment."

"Go ahead," he said with a wry smile. "Sorry."

"No offense taken. Now," she frowned. "The way I see it, we each have favourites among the students as it is, don't we?"

The other three moved uncomfortably. They all did not like to admit that they favoured one child over another, but that was the truth of the matter, and the sooner they would acknowledge it, the better.

"That's true enough, I suppose," Salazar finally said, closely followed by reluctant nods of the other two.

"Well," she continued, "we favour them for a reason, don't we? We like them because they represent the ideals _we_ like the most. Then what I suggest is that we simply divide them into four different groups. One group for each of us. Our favourite students."

"And then what?"

"I beg your pardon?" she asked with surprise at Godric's question.

"Then what, Helga? I told you. The four of us would go insane with overload in a week's time. Not to mention the fact that I, for one, cannot teach Ancient Runes or Charms. These are not my specialties. And another thing, you could have an eight year old studying in the same group as an eighteen year old. The studies fitting one would be extremely unfitting for the other. How do we get past that?"

"I didn't really think about that," she grimaced. "You have a point."

"Yes, he does have a point for a change," Rowena said, sending a somewhat impish grin at Godric and then laughing, admitting to only teasing him. Then she sobered. "But you have a point also, Helga. It's a good idea, all in all, but we can't make it work the way you suggested. What we _can_ do, however, is quite simple. For the time being, I think we should leave the study groups as they are, though in a while I suggest we divide them into four age groups rather than two, for the age differences are still too great.

"Taking Helga's idea into account, I think that we _should_ sort the students so that each of us would have our favourites under our care, and we would try to even out the numbers as best we can with the children resembling the most our ideal student.

"Now, along the day we leave out an hour or two in which we sit with our own group, go through everything they did today and helping each one as best we can. I think it would be the best way we can do it right now."

They mulled it over and then Salazar shrugged. "Why not? We might as well try. Let's go over the student list now and divide them between us. By next year we can start this. But then… what about newcomers?"

"What about them?"

"These students we know through months and sometimes years, so it's not a problem to sort through them, but what about those who would come next year?"

"We could…" Godric muttered. "Maybe we can confer with them or something like that? Determine what they like to do and then decide among ourselves who would take the newcomer under his or her wing?"

With that agreed, they started dividing the children into the four groups.

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The fourth year of the existence of Hogwarts School marked a great difference in the school's policy and general appearance. For one thing, the dozen or so House Elves that had been procured at the end of the third year were now fully adapted at running the cleaning and cooking in the Castle. They would do everything from lighting fires in the grates to cooking three course feasts for special days. They were all very quiet, very shy and extremely submissive. This left the four friends a lot of spare time for classes and private affairs.

Another profound change was that now they could take in children from afar, for now they had living space which enabled them to offer their students food and board. In preparation for that, and in subsequence to their dividing of the school into four, each of them chose a location in the school where their children would have their own chamber where they could become a more united group, and adjacent sleeping chambers. They had a lot of fun helping each other decorate the chambers.

Godric had chosen one of the big towers - a rounded, tall thing that had two spiral staircases climbing up to the top. His group chamber was at the very bottom of the tower, and due to an offhand remark made by their resident artist, Salazar, they gave it a scarlet theme, accented by golden tassels for the curtains and more golden touches on various padded chairs and walls. This, of course, led to a joint decision to decorate each chamber in the colours of its teacher's crest.

Thus Rowena's slender tower's base turned into a magnificent blue and bronze chamber with heavy tables for numerous books and a bronze railing to either side of the zigzagging staircase leading to the various sleeping chambers, and Salazar's chosen huge dungeon received a somewhat eerie tone of green, added to by torches of greenish flame and decorated by various silver things such as candlesticks and the linings of the dark furniture.

As for Helga, she always liked comfy places where she could lounge about in peace. Her chambers of choice were a connected set of rooms somewhere in the middle of the Castle. There were no steps in those rooms. No one would need to go up or down in _her_ group chamber. There was just a long, snaking hallway, with rooms that opened to either side. The theme, naturally, had to be yellow and black, but Helga, though she loved her part of the crest Salazar had created for Hogwarts, thought that a theme such as that would be tad noxious. So she opted to decorate her chamber with the softest shades of yellow she could find, and used the black only to accent certain features of the rooms, such as the fireplace, which her friends helped her install with a dark wood carved mantelpiece. She had so much fun decorating that she was extremely disappointed when she discovered that there was nothing more to do after a week of work.

When the students arrived for their first day when summer ended, they were surprised to find the new alignment of their dinning hall which had changed drastically since they had last seen it. Instead of the long, single table they were used to congregate around during their noon meal, there were now four different tables. The small table their teachers had always used was still there, but now it was raised over a platform so all students could see them. The children of the village were also surprised to see quite a few new students that they did not recognize. Strangers that they had never seen before.

On the raised platform, Salazar suddenly rose and raised his hand for silence.

"Dear children," he greeted. "Welcome to another year of studying under our guidance. As you can all see there is a small change in the sitting arrangements. I would now call your names. All those who are named now, will please quietly go and sit on the leftmost table." After a moment of silent staring, he added "_Your_ left."

There was a nervous tittering of laughter, but as he started reading out their names, the children obediently walked over to whatever table they were directed to.

Once he was finished with the list, Salazar said "These are your sitting arrangements for the rest of your stay in Hogwarts. These are your tables. Each of us four will have one of those groups under our direct charge. Every complaint you may have, you will address to your personal guide." He then proceeded to tell them the details of their agreement, and ended it by explaining the presence of the strangers. "As you have all seen, there are many among you which you do not recognize. This is because they come from afar and do not live in the village. They will be living in Hogwarts, and sleeping in the newly constructed sleeping quarters which are adjacent to the group chambers - which you will all become familiar with this year, as you would spend a few hours a week there under the tutoring of you personal teacher. I trust you all to make them feel welcome.

"And again, welcome to your new year here. You may now go with your teacher, and all else shall be explained in your designated group. Good day."

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It was late autumn, and their fourth year of schooling had just began when it Helga's turn once more to go into the village to gather both the information collected for them by various denizens of the place, and the gifts of food many beady women would give them, often accompanied by the phrase "You are so scrawny! You should eat more". Godric, and to a certain degree, Salazar, took full advantage of those mothering women. They _did_ thank them profusely each time, however. Mostly because the Helga gave them a reproachful look whenever they did not.

"I'm leaving for the Loch!" she cried to whomever was near, which happened to be Rowena who was on her way to the vegetable patch to do a bit of weeding.

"Good. It's been a while since any of us bothered going there," her friend replied distractedly. Rowena had been absent minded all that morning. Something was on her mind, and Helga resolved to pry into it just as soon as she was back from the village.

"Do you need anything? I remember you said something about cloth for a new dress."

"No, thank you," Rowena said politely, shaking her head. "I decided against it. I'm not in sore need of something new. But don't neglect to visit Dahlia - she was very disappointed last time when we did not stop by. Oh! And don't forget to see Ceridwen about those last reports from Stonehenge! We need to go through them before the meeting the evening after tomorrow - and invite her to dinner! Tell her it's important! And don't forget to bring that keg of milk Moira has for us! Or the cheese from Donella! And the dispatches from Fearghas! And the-"

"Yes, yes, Rowena," Helga laughed. She should have known better than to ask Rowena whether there was something she needed. "I will not forget any of it, rest assured." With that she picked up her basket and took leave, intending to enjoy the long, pleasant walk to the Loch.

"-And don't forget to be back by sunset!"

She winced. She forgot that Rowena's special dinner was to begin at sunset. If she would be late, Rowena would kill her. Her friend had been talking of absolutely nothing for the past three days apart of the special dinner she had planned. Helga supposed that her preoccupation stemmed from that.

"I'll be back long before that and help you in the garden!" she shouted in the direction of her friend.

She would have to take a horse. Merlin, how she hated those animals.

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_Helga watched silently as the man edged closer to get a better listening point. He had to do it unobtrusively, and by his inconspicuous movements, she could see that he was an adept at this._

_"We'll hear it in a second," Ceridwen said to her, not bothering to whisper. "Rhys and I already went through this."_

_Not speaking, Helga nodded. She gathered her skirts and followed Ceridwen into the open, which now was clear to the man's point of view._

_"-time to finalize our plans to crush the rebels in the north!" Ambrosius' voice reverberated from the massive marble walls, angling from every direction as the sound hit off pillars and walls._

_"Be reasonable, my lord!" a stocky man in his seventies sitting on the upper step ("Lord Gaius," elaborated Ceridwen. "The most conservative of the First House. He can be either Ambrosius' biggest supporter, or worse enemy, so Ambrosius has to step carefully around him."), and then, when he saw he had Ambrosius' attention, he continued. "My lord Ambrosius, we know to this day very much the same as we knew two or even three years ago. We know where they are and that they are planning to work against you, but nothing other than that. What are their plans? Who supports their cause? What is the extent of their connections? Their schedule? Their resources? For all we know, all they plan to do is to sit holed up in that ruin they call a castle and wait out for _our_ next move. Can you answer this, my lord, or are you simply going to dismiss it as irrelevant? I realize your over-confidence had been hurt when Servants Gryffindor and Slytherin escaped with those wenches, but you must realize how important it is not to work just out of a sense of vengeance!"_

_"This is good," Ceridwen said as she and Helga walked closer and seated themselves on the edge of the Lower House step, preparing to listen more comfortably. "This might mean that once we actually start doing things, then Gaius may support our cause. We would need to work on his sense of loyalty, of course, but he is a good man at heart."_

_"If he's such a good man, then why do we resort to using Marlow and not simply go to him?" Helga wondered, watching as Ambrosius' brow creased and he weighed Lord Gaius' words._

_"Because then his sense of duty would make him tell Ambrosius, and then what? No. Marlow was our best choice. Now, hush. He's about to continue."_

_And indeed, that moment Ambrosius rose to his feet and cleared his throat. "My lord Gaius, it is true that we did not find out their plans as expected."_

_"As expected?" a tall, lanky man on the second step raised his voice ("Lord Billius of Cheshire," Ceridwen explained. "He's a weak link as well, since he'd go with Gaius if Gaius decides to side us"). "My lord Ambrosius, as far as I and my fellow Second House members know, there was not a single try to flush out the rebels or discover what their plans are!"_

_"Now we get to the interesting part," Ceridwen said gleefully. "Watch as Ambrosius squirm. He did not want to let _that_ particular piece of information slip."_

_Ambrosius, as Ceridwen noted, did squirm on his feet, looking mightily uncomfortable. Then he sighed. "Last year a man was sent to bring me at least one of the four miscreants - preferably all four. He had failed. What they had done to him… does not bear repeating."_

_"You honestly thought one man is good enough to bring down Gryffindor or Slytherin?" Lord Billius demanded derisively. "You must be losing your grip on reality, my lord."_

_"The man who had been sent," Ambrosius seethed, "was Marcus Gregory. I trust you are all familiar with the man and his attributes?"_

_There was uproar in the Council Chamber. Helga covered her ears to protect them from the rising cacophony. At her side, Ceridwen laughed in glee. "See how he dug himself nicely in?" she sniggered. "Now he wouldn't know where to bury himself. Gregory was despised by many of them - even though Ambrosius himself signed the order to spare him when Raven Lord and Gawain wanted him dead. There were many doubts concerning it. No matter how much we hate them, the Council members are still human and Gregory… well, Gregory can't even be described as a beast."_

_After the Council members calmed down, they got back down to business and the part Helga and Ceridwen came to watch._

_"Lord Gaius, I'm afraid, is speaking the truth," Ambrosius said heavily, settling down in place. "We do not know much more today than we had known straight after they had dubbed that ruin in the north their base of operations. However, what we _do_ know, is that they are there and that they are indeed holed up in there. They will not move. And what is better, is that now in addition to themselves, they have a castle full of children, and the village that supports them - the Loch. They would not do anything to risk the lives of those people needlessly. Oh, no, they are too _noble_ for it." There was a definite tone of contempt in Ambrosius' voice, and Helga noticed that some men in the Lower House shifted uncomfortably at his words, having noticed the derisive note as well._

_"So what we need to do is to use that certain nobleness of theirs," Ambrosius continued, his handsome face creasing into a mask of madness. "To use it - and crush them with it. We, my friends, are going to center our efforts on hurting the soft belly of those so-called rebels of the north."_

_"And pray tell, Lord Ambrosius," Gaius said through gritted teeth, "-what do you suggest we do? Start slaughtering innocent children?"_

_"If needs be."_

_This statement caused a ripple of alarm throughout the men of the Council. Outraged cries of protest punctured the silence that spread after Ambrosius had made his reply. As much as Helga and the other three were bent on seeing the members of the Council as bloodthirsty monsters, not even they could ignore the blatant horror of what their Chief Warlock suggested._

_Entirely in control, and calm, Ambrosius raised his hand to capture their attention. "Let me finish, my lords. If needs be, yes, I _will_ authorize the killing of children. This is not, however, the purpose of my plan. No. We shall _threaten_ to do so. If we do it just right, the fools will fall for it and drop into our palms like ripe fruits._

_"Now, I drafted an order for the assembling of a mighty force to go against the fools of the north. I would like you to authorize it and sign it. Every able bodied man will be drafted and sent to train in special camps that will be headed by our own Chamber Guard. In a couple of years' time, it will all be over. Cane! Bring me parchment, quill and pen! I want this over and done with by the end of this meeting!"_

_Helga, still spellbound by what she had heard, was startled by the touch of Ceridwen's hand on her shoulder._

_"That's it, Helga. After that there was just the signing of the formal order and the Council dispersed. Come, we should go out."_

_Helga nodded and felt herself being drawn out..._

"Well, I have to say it was interesting," she admitted once they were back in Rhys' kitchen and Ceridwen stored the Basin of Memories back in its place. "Not quite satisfying, but at least it gave us somewhat of an idea of what's going on."

Ceridwen nodded, taking back her seat. "That was what Marlowe said as well, but he thought it would be better for us to know this little since he had no idea how long it would take him to accumulate more information. We need to discuss this thing in whole, double-check every detail."

"Yes, I know. I assume you and Rhys took notes of what was being said? I do not believe that taking the Basin into Hogwarts would be such a good idea. It's a long journey on horseback, and I don't wish it to be spilled."

"Naturally we did, my girl. Everything documented and noted. Now, would it be all right if I come by tomorrow evening so we can go through the thing with the others as well?"

"Oh!" Helga exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "Rowena asked me to bring you along to dinner tonight. We're not dining in the Council Hall with the children tonight for some reason. She is planning some sort of a private meal. I think she may have discovered something vital and wants to share it with us all."

"Of course I will come!" Ceridwen said with a smile. "Then we could use this evening for sifting through all the information. Rhys, however, will not be able to come since he stayed outside during the rainstorm yesterday and is now chilled. If you will just wait a moment or two, I will exchange my clothes for more appropriate ones and notify Lleulu that there will be one less at dinnertime." And without another word she swept out of the room, leaving Helga to pick up the parcels Rowena had reminded her to take about every other minute or so.

Yes, she had taken everything. She had the milk and the cheese in their containers, and the dispatches from their contacts were safely tucked within her waist pouch. She had not had the time yet to go through them, and besides, she was sure that the others would like to see them as soon as possible. From the look on Fearghas' face, it was something important.

She just wrapped her cloak around her shoulders when Ceridwen came in with Lleulu in tow, her heavy cloak in her arms.

"-and I trust you to _force_ Rhys into bed if needed. The man is beginning to be troublesome about it. Tell him I'll feed him that foul concoction if he does not rest, understood?"

The young girl nodded at Ceridwen's instructions and smiled at Helga. "It will be done. Have a nice evening."

"Thank you, my dear," Ceridwen said and with a sweeping motion of her arm, pushed Helga ahead of her and into the street.

It was rather cold outside, and Helga feared that rain would come soon as well. She could only imagine what the return journey to Hogwarts would be like if she had been delayed further in her expedition within Marlowe's memory together with Ceridwen. Taking hold of her horse' reins, she waited Ceridwen to saddle her own horse. Once ready, the two women mounted and started making their way down the main street and in the general direction of Hogwarts. They were not halfway across the street when they were brought into a halt.

"Mistress Hufflepuff!" a young woman Helga vaguely recognized as the sister of one of her students called. "Wait one moment please!"

Rather impatiently, Helga stopped, too eager to get home to be gracious. Her meeting with Ceridwen _had_, after all, taken longer than she had expected, and atop of the weather growing foul, she had promised Rowena to help in the garden.

The young woman, her dirty apron covering a rather well-made gown, ran after her from the direction of the village center.

"What can I do for you-" she had to dig deep to recall the girl's name, not having Rowena's knack for names. "-Ishbel?"

The girl beamed at her, glad to have been remembered by such an important persona. "I'm sorry to delay you, Mistress Hufflepuff, but there's someone here for Mistress Ravenclaw. She arrived here early this morning and demanded to be taken to her. We tried to explain that you can't simply go there without invitation, so she demanded that one of you be summoned. Calanthe distracted her all morning so that she will not leave to try going to the Castle by herself, but she is a very stubborn woman."

"Very well," Helga sighed with growing annoyance. She hoped it was not yet another poor girl wanting work they just could not give. "Take me to her. You don't mind, do you, Ceridwen?"

The older woman shook her head.

Ishbel nodded enthusiastically and half walking, half running, led Helga to Calanthe's tavern. They barely reached the door when she heard a muffled voice saying "You have delayed me long enough! I will now go and find this dratted Castle you are speaking of, with or without your help!"

Mustering all that was left of her patience, Helga pushed the door open and with a voice brimming with ill-suppressed irritation said "I understand you want to see Mistress Ravenclaw. Well, I'm afraid that it is not possible for you to go into Hogwarts without our invitation or autho-" her sure voice died in her throat as the woman in the shadows by the counter stepped into the light. She felt herself blush.

The last time she had seen that woman she was a shy girl of eighteen in a modest dress of simple fabric, and a child's hairstyle. Now she was five years older, and all modesty she had, at least in what she assumed the woman thought, had long since evaporated.

The gown she was wearing was more than a little revealing, made of the finest pale yellow silk, given to her by Salazar, and decorated with the elaborate lace Rowena bought her for her last birthday at the front and at the sleeves. Her hair was held high and made into what she now felt were rather vain curls. She even had a jewel at her neck. She felt overly-painted and under-dressed under the woman's scrutinizing gaze.

"Why, Helga," Rosalind Ravenclaw said archly. "My, have you grown up."

**This is it for this time! I truly hope you enjoyed this! Now please review and tell me what you _really_ thought about this chapter!**

**And now: MY REVIEWERS (I can't believe your reviews amounted to over 200!):**

**The Great Escapist: **Heh, Rowena has probably been in denial since… ooh.. I don't know… the minute they met? ;) What they did to Gregory shall be revealed in time… I hope it's horrible enough for the lot of you :D

**Rockergurl13:** Congrats on the account! (sorry that it's a little belated…). Thanks!

**FizzingWhizbeez:** ((joins the happy dance)) I had _so_ much fun writing that chapter! There isn't much of Godric/Rowena in this one, but more is to come. Thank you so much again for all your nagging and encouragement! It helped me a lot!

**Innekeminneke:** Yep, definitely about bloody time. I don't think I would have been able to keep them away from each other for much longer:D

**Circe La Fay:** I really liked Four Weddings and a Funeral. Haven't seen it in a long while, but I suppose you have a point ;) Thanks!

**Goldfish from Mars:** I know that kind of depression… I want a guy to snog, too. Wish I could have Godric - but then Rowena would kick my arse… thank you!

**Lirael Astarael:** Nope. No deaths in this story for a little while longer ;) ((ducks the floppy disk and begs for forgiveness)) thank you so much, and congratulations on the account!

**TimeWaitsForNoOne:** Heh, yep. Many people were excited about this finally happening - me not the least of them :) Thank you very much!

**Reader: **Thank you!

**WeasleyGirl-Yeah:** Thank you so very much! I'm glad you liked it that much :D

**JakKat:** Sneaky little Helga… oh, how I love her… thank you for this review - I'm so glad you enjoyed it:)

**Si-FiAdict246:** Thanks ((blushes))

**Moonlight on the Water:** Maureen is definitely the greatest… Cute snake that she is - and so to the point ;) Finals were a killer, but thankfully they were the last finals I would have to face till university, which would be in a _long_ time… Glad you liked the way I featured Rowena and Godric in _Knight_ - it was fun :D Thank you _so_ much about the review of the last chapter! I'm glad to say (or rather, sad) that I have finally managed to think of a way to turn Salazar against them. It took a lot of thought, and something cruel, but I have it - it _shall_ remain a secret though - I'm sure you understand ;) As for your other question, I hope this chapter answered it somewhat - though I'm sure you can use your imagination to fill in the gaps…

**Skylighter: **You have no idea how flattered I was to read you review - thank you very much :) As for now, it is over 200 Word sheets long, and I believe it might even reach 300, but I'm not too sure about that. My chapters are increasingly longer now for some reason. It's going to be 30 chapters long plus the Prologue and the Epilogue. Again, thank you!

**Metamorphmagus-Barbie:** thank you :D

**Frigabi:** Yep, Maureen definitely rocks! I love her to bits. I'm sorry if you thought the fights between Rowena and Godric were a bit exaggerated, but I wanted them to reach to such a head that it would be easy for Helga to convince Rowena that Godric would do something as crazy as going out into a storm just because she hurt him so much. Thank you very much!

**Mrs. Fawkes:** Thank you very much :) Many people asked me about that house, and I admit to having thought about it, too, so I would leave it open for speculation. Maybe Hagrid's hut _had_ been built over the foundations of their house…

**.Aurorablu.:** Thank you very much!

**BrownEyesAthena:** Thanks! I'm glad you find it so good!

**Dorkforlife:** Thank you! I'm having a lot of fun writing these parts, and I'm glad theyr'e appreciated :)

**FirstDaysOfSummer:** Heh - I love 'em, too! Thanks!

**Nixie02:** thanks!

**Lady Marvel:** There _will_ be more about Helga's and Salazar's relationship, but I'm afraid it won't all be good, seeing as how we all know what will happen in the end. Thank you!

**disaffectedHSstudent:** thank you very much! I'm sorry for the lack of suspense, but the appearance of Gregory in that chapter was only so I could introduce him. I'm glad that you have enjoyed this story and I appreciate your reviews.

**Cecilia Orechio:** good to have you back! Thanks for the review, and I'm waiting for your update!

**Kaiti and Nae Chan:** thank you!

**Well, this is it for this time, my friends! I hope to see you all again and that I have not disappointed you!**

**Seeya!**

**Star of the North (who is really, really _really_ sorry…)**


	19. Love Fulfilled

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** My dear readers, as promised, this chapter did _not_ take four months to be uploaded! It hadn't even taken a month! Oh, I'm so happy! ;) Unfortunately, the next update, most likely, will take place at the beginning of October, unless I can squeeze another chapter between now and my flight to England in a week and a half or two. I'm going there for about a month if I can afford it, and will be unable to update while I am there, so in advance, my sincere apologies.

On that note, anyone who reads this and hasn't got an Author Account and therefore cannot ask for an Author Alert (as far as I know), but still wishes to know when I update, may add their email to their review, and I will send an alert myself whenever I update _Tale of a Time Long Gone_.

Another thing, do you remember the days when my chapters were about 10 or 12 pages long? I do believe that they are now doubling those numbers and more - weird, eh?

With that said, and with my growing excitement to be once more in the country which sprouted Harry Potter and his world, I hope you will enjoy reading chapter 18, and I will see you in my next update!

Have fun!

**Chapter 18 – Love Fulfilled**

_"Another lovely Wizarding tradition now sadly no longer in use, is the Ceremony of the Firstborn._

_"The last recorded Ceremony had taken place in the early 1760's in honour of the Count de Malfois' Firstborn. The reason behind the disappearance of this custom is yet to be revealed._

_"The Firstborn in a family held all the family's hopes, and most of the family's fortune._

_"The Firstborn held the same rights - it made no difference whether they were male or female - aside of one thing: if the Firstborn was a daughter and when married she took her husband's name, and so did her children, then the Firstborn rights were immediately transferred to the next in line. Family fortune had to be kept within the family, unless there was no other choice. _

_"The fortune could _not_ be transferred to members not of the immediate family…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Salazar was helping Rowena in the garden. Helga had promised she would do that, Rowena said, but apparently she had been delayed in the village longer than anticipated. He hoped it was not a sign for grim events approaching. He was not a great admirer of outdoor work, and especially not of the onerous task of weeding, but as Rowena often said, they did not have much of a choice if they wanted to give their home a respectable appearance and he could not help but agree, the artist in him protesting at the weed-infested flowerbeds.

It was sunny day, and they hoped for a few more days of that weather after the frozen week they had had beforehand. The students in particular behaved in an extremely edgy fashion, wishing they could take their breaks outside. Rowena was rather cheerfully blasting weeds out of her way, and Salazar found himself wondering whether Godric and she had been doing something less than innocent the night before when they had less than politely asked Helga and himself to go away. Normally, she would have grumbled having to do that manual task, and wonder out loud why the House Elves could not be trusted with it, though knowing well that they considered most of what was not edible a weed. Today she seemed to enjoy her work. She even hummed.

It was the humming that lit like a Lumos Spell in his mind.

Feeling fairly certain that she would not harm a friend over such an innocent question, he gently inquired her doings during the night. Just in case, he _did_ brace himself for a verbal abuse.

Laughing, she blasted yet another weed into smithereens and knelt beside him, grinning madly. "Well, let's just say that it shall remain a secret until tonight. We are not eating with the students this evening, my dear Salazar - I thought Godric would have told you. Dinner will be served at sundown in my quarters. Don't be late, and remind Helga to be ready as well." Then, laughing, she picked herself up and continued mutilating the renegade plants ruining her patch of garden.

Helga did not return to her chambers all afternoon, and Salazar was understandably more than a little worried, but there was not much he could do. There were classes to teach and Castle renovations to be done. He decided that were she to miss dinner, he would personally go after her. He had the feeling that, were she to miss dinner, Rowena as well would go personally after her, and for far less benevolent reasons.

Godric told him about the special dinner about an hour before sunset, sheepishly admitting that he had forgotten telling him beforehand. Salazar found himself wondering what could make his friend so forgetful.

He entered Rowena's small main chamber almost half an hour early, only to find her in Godric's arms. He did not think it was such a good idea to do what they were doing when they knew they would have guests coming any minute, but nonetheless, he coughed lightly to catch their attention. The couple sprang away from each other, looking flustered. Rowena's hair was mussed, and Godric's clothes were rather rumpled.

Godric was wearing his best robes, something he did not do often, and that Salazar found exceedingly strange. Godric was just not the robe-wearing type. He liked his normal warrior garb in which he had no trouble wielding his sword and generally moving his limbs, and was most comfortable in them. Robes were a status symbol in the magic community, however, and it seemed like something was very important to him that day, since he wore his deep red, gold embroidered robe with the symbol of the lion on its breast - the ones he said were tacky and ridiculous, but had been caught eyeing them quite frequently by Salazar. At least he did not put on the new hat that his mother had bought him only very recently, saying it was the latest fashion in the London wizarding society. If Salazar was not much mistaken, that hat was safely ensconced under Godric's bed, gathering dust. He did not blame his friend. He, Salazar Slytherin, would not be caught dead, wearing that sort of hat.

Rowena was also wearing her best gown: a blue velvet one with coppery needlework on its high collar, down its front, on the edge of the sleeves, and on the hem of the heavy skirts. It was the one she got out only for the most special of occasions, since it was so costly and dear to her. He remembered her carrying it carefully folded inside tissue-thin cloth in their saddlebags on the journey from the Glen, oh-so-long-ago. She also had her hair out of its usual bun, and gathered it up with a copper comb and then let the strands cascade down, which was a rare thing in itself. It had been her favourite way of dressing her hair before they started out on their journey, but was rather impractical considering all they had done since.

On the burnished table at the center of the chamber were the best gold plates and silver cutlery, given to them along with a House-Elf by one of Ceridwen's more wealthy contacts, accompanied by tall goblets made for them especially by a talented craftsman down in the Loch, for the price of repairing his roof. The smells coming from the covered dishes were overwhelmingly delicious. The House Elves had outdone themselves.

"What's the occasion?" Salazar asked curiously, suddenly feeling inadequate in his much less elaborate green doublet and simple black trousers.

"You will know soon enough," Godric said in a conspiratorial whisper, luxuriously motioning him to sit down as though he was the master of the house. "I thought Helga will be coming with you?"

"As a matter of fact…" Salazar started slowly, keeping his eyes on Rowena, daring her to explode. "Last time I checked, Helga was not back from the Loch."

"_What!_" Rowena exclaimed. "But I _told_ her I needed her here tonight!"

"Hush, love," Godric said, taking hold of her hand. "There's still a little less than half an hour before she has to be here. She probably arrived late and is getting ready this minute. Give her time."

To Salazar's surprise, Rowena allowed it to pass, nodding. She did not explode.

They waited, making idle conversation as they did. Normally, they would have had serious discussion concerning the school's future, or the impending confrontation with Ambrosius, but that evening it seemed to Salazar that Godric was too scatterbrained for that, and that Rowena was… well, for a lack of a better word - _giddy_.

Time passed. Sundown passed, but Godric managed to keep Rowena distracted enough not to go after Helga with a vengeance. Almost half an hour past, there was a timid knock on the front door, and then it opened slowly, and Helga's sheepish face appeared in the opening.

"Before you start ranting, Raven?" she begged, seeing Rowena taking a deep breath. "I was delayed for reasons beyond me. We have a guest."

Opening the door further, Helga stepped in, allowing two other women step inside as well. One was Ceridwen. The other, for lack of better wording, was not.

His eyes widening, his mind clogged with shock, Salazar got up and bowed deeply, closely followed by Godric, who bowed even deeper.

In front of them was a very regal Rosalind Ravenclaw.

Rowena did not bother with protocol. With a cry that was much more befitting a girl than a grown woman of her age, she ran to her mother and clung to her. Tears flooded down her cheeks.

"Mama!" she cried, her arms around her mother's neck, burying her face in that welcoming shoulder. Salazar, understandably, was more than a little surprised to see his friend losing all control of her emotions. He did not remember the last time Rowena was not her cool and collected self when Godric was not around to test her patience. In fact, he was not sure that he had ever seen her abandoning herself to feeling like that.

_Well,_ he thought. _There's a first time to everything._

"Mama?" Rosalind said, mildly surprised, though if Salazar was any judge, she was delighted. "You have not called me that since you were ten, I think."

Rowena did not say anything. She simply held unto her mother as though she was holding for dear life. Rosalind hugged her and let her be, a soft smile on her face.

It took a while for Rowena to recompose herself. Only then did Salazar dare ask "Madam Ravenclaw? What are you doing here?"

Rosalind, settling down in a padded chair Godric offered her, stayed silent for a while, pondering his question. She then laughed. "What am I doing here? Well, my dear Lord Slytherin, what is wrong with a mother visiting her daughter she had not seen in five years? And a daughter who doesn't write, at that?"

Rowena's cheeks coloured crimson. Salazar knew that she did not write Rosalind for over three years, but having been by her side constantly through those three years, he realized that writing to her worried mother was the last thing on Rowena's mind.

"I'm sorry, Mother," she said, recomposing herself. "We were extremely busy around here."

"So I hear," Rosalind said with a quirk of her eyebrow. "Since I have not heard from you since you wrote that you escaped that dratted man and were going up north, I went out of the Glen and the Valley and started traveling in the direction of Stonehenge. I was half in mind to walk straight into the Council Chamber and demand that they would let the four of you be."

"_Mother!_" Rowena choked at the older woman's words. "They would have locked you up and used your talents!"

Rosalind waved an impatient hand. "I am a master of traveling through magic-"

"Apparition."

"I beg your pardon?"

Salazar grinned as he met the woman's eyes. "It's called Apparition, Madam Ravenclaw - a term your daughter coined. We teach it to our older students now that Rowena managed to complete your project and make it easier for the less talented witches and wizards."

Rosalind's eyes lit up, and abruptly she turned to her daughter, an eager expression in her eyes. "Really? You _really_ did manage it?"

Rowena nodded meekly, making Godric stifle a snort, Helga to avert her eyes and Salazar to choke on his own laughter. They all knew how immensely proud their friend was at cracking the system and creating an easy way to Apparate.

"How did you do it? Did you use a change of incantation? A magic shortcut? Directed different parts of the magic to different routes? Did you-"

"Not now, Rosalind? Please?" Helga said. "You were about to tell us how you found out just how busy we were."

The elder Ravenclaw seemed to shake herself from research mode and focus her mind back to the matter at hand. She straightened her skirts and once again looked more like the dignified matron she was instead of an excited child. "As I was saying, I was not afraid to go into Stonehenge, knowing that I could get out in a split second. But I never got there.

"Halfway there, I met an old comrade of Ryan. A man by the name of…Cedric, I think. I haven't seen him in a while, and I was never as close to the Knights as Ceridwen here, since Ryan and I were not exactly… married at the time, so I can't really be sure."

Salazar was quite certain that Rosalind was not telling the truth. He knew her well enough to know that she probably never forgot a single thing in her life. Neither did he believe that she did not know the Knights of the Phoenix just as well as Ceridwen. The only thing he could think of was that she was trying, years later and possibly out of sheer habit, to maintain the image of a proper woman, doing as was suitable for such women. Unmarried women did not mingle with their future husbands' mates. He merely smiled, though, and nodded.

Sir Cedric was one of the Knights whom they had contacted but lived too far off and also did not have children in the right age. He helped them, however, and was part of the network the Knights devised years before and now reestablished. It was not surprising that he knew what to tell Rosalind.

They all listened carefully, though, as Rosalind continued. "He recognized me, after scrutinizing me for a bit, and then he asked what I was doing there. I said I was looking for my daughter. It was then that he started laughing and told me that my daughter was safe and sound, and that she and her friends were creating mayhem in the north. He told me that all I had to do was go to the Loch and from there people would guide me onwards. That was where Helga and Ceridwen met me - and here I am." She took a deep breath. "So I understand that you are behind the unrest in wizarding communities all over the country? A rebellion, eh?"

The four glanced sheepishly at each other, but said nothing.

"I understand then, that there is some sort of special occasion celebrated tonight?" she said. "Am I invited?"

"You are much more than invited, Madam Ravenclaw!" Godric said hurriedly. "In fact, we are extremely glad that you are here, for I'm sure Rowena would have been extremely desolate without anyone from her family. That said, shall we go and eat? I'll have the House Elves set another place on the table."

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, a House Elf appeared with a new set of plate and cutlery, setting them on the table. As soon as it disappeared, Godric courteously offered one arm to Rosalind, and the other to his mother, and led them to the table with all decorum required.

The food, Salazar noted as they started to eat, was much more sophisticated than what they usually ate with the students in the Council Hall. Children, as a rule, mostly have much simpler tastes than that of their elders. Many do not like the complicated tastes many herbs and powders could give what they eat. It was a grand meal, and he regretted that they could not eat food like that more often.

After they had finished the first course and main course, the food cleaned itself off their plates, and sweet things started to appear on the table instead of the various meat dishes and vegetable bowls. It was then, finally, that Godric, nudged by Rowena, got up to capture their attention.

"You have no idea how glad I - we - are to see you all here. It is extremely important for us to that you have all assented to come." He smiled at them all and continued. "Well, as Helga and Salazar most certainly knew, we are not eating our dinner with the students as we usually do, since we - Rowena and I - have something to share with you," he was looking at his friends and his mother, though not quite meeting Rosalind's eyes.

Salazar had a feeling that he knew what his old friend was about to say. He felt a smile tug at his lips. And then, as though to confirm his suspicions, Godric took Rowena's hand gently and went on.

"I am especially glad to have you here, Rosalind, for this," Godric finally smiled at the older woman and then said "Last night I asked Rowena whether she would consent to be my wife. She has graciously accepted. We are getting married!"

The ringing silence lasted only mere seconds. As soon as Godric's words sank in, they all started talking as one, offering their congratulations and their hopes for a great future.

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Salazar and Godric were sitting together in their private room on the ground floor only a week or so after Godric and Rowena's momentous announcement, when their female counterparts entered, arguing as they went. It was not an angry argument, but an argument all the same.

"I swear, Rowena, the Castle _is_ moving," Helga was saying, wringing her hands.

"It cannot possibly _move_," Rowena countered, ever her logical self. "It's a building - _our_ building at that. We built it the way it is."

"Yes, but I'm telling you, it moves, and moreover, it _changes_."

"What are you two talking about?" Salazar asked curiously, eyeing the two friends.

"Helga claims that the rooms in the castle move from one place to another," Rowena explained.

"I was trying to get to North Tower and the stairs I know for _certain_ lead there, led me to the third floor!" Helga grumbled.

"Maybe you took the wrong turn?" Salazar suggested diplomatically.

As it turned out, it was not diplomatically enough. Helga's face turned red, and her eyes narrowed angrily. "I did _not_ take the wrong turn!" she stamped her foot. "I know this Castle like the palm of my hand, and I knew exactly where I was going - and still I got to the wrong place. And if we're at it - last week another door appeared down the fifth floor corridor! I've never seen it before, and I know that _we_ didn't put it there! Something's going on, and I don't like it!"

"Let's go then," Godric said cheerfully. They all looked at him as though he was mad, and he hurried to elaborate. "Let's go check this staircase that Helga took. We all know the layout of the Castle perfectly. Let's all go and determine whether our pretty little Helga is going insane, or if she's really right." After that he had to dodge Helga's hand.

They decided to take Godric's advice, and stepped out of their chamber.

Salazar enjoyed evening walks in the halls of Hogwarts. The children were either back in the village or, in the case of those lodging within, ensconced in their group chambers, so the corridors were empty and silent. He loved the echoing quality of the silence, which allowed him to hear even the slightest movement of a moth.

They walked in companionable silence, each in their own minds recalling each turn on their way to North Tower. They have walked this path enough times to be able to reach it with their eyes closed.

Finally, they reached the staircase that would take them to the seventh floor and to the entry of the tower. Only the staircase did not go up there. Halfway up, Salazar had the feeling that something was wrong. The staircase as he knew it was supposed to take a half turn and continue at an angle to the right. It now went to the left. The others next to him also stopped.

"I'm pretty sure that we're supposed to take it right now," Rowena said in an odd tone. Salazar risked a peek in her direction and found her staring at the solid wall to their right. She then touched the wall gingerly, as though afraid it would bite her. She finally turned to glance at Helga. "We had better go on up. I want to see if we end up on the third floor as you said."

They did. Out of a broad, arched opening they had never seen before, they walked into the third floor, right in front of a tapestry given to them as a payment from a weaver whose son started at Hogwarts that year. The young couple portrayed on the fabric watched them curiously as the four started examining the arch carved with a rope design.

"This wasn't here yesterday," Godric said in a low voice.

"No," the young woman in the tapestry replied in a lilting voice. "It was not. It appeared here only this morning."

"Thank you," he said politely. "Where did you say that new door appeared, Helga?"

Their journey up to the fifth floor was uneventful to a fault. They had not seen anything out of the ordinary, and as far as Salazar could tell, there was nothing new anywhere. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the ornate, English Oak door, with its burnished brass knob, that stood clearly ahead of them.

His heart thumping loudly, Salazar reached out to the cold-looking metal, and grasped. His hand touched nothing. Narrowing his eyes, he tried again. Again he missed. Squinting, he leaned closely and examined the door. He let out a soft gasp.

"What?" the other three asked at the same time.

"The illusion is amazing," he supplied, rather cryptically, he admitted to himself after a moment.

"Illusion?"

"This isn't a door," he explained, a pained expression on his face. "We are being duped, at least in this case. It's… well, some sort of a painting. The artist has the best technique I had ever seen - practically indistinguishable from the real thing until you try and touch it. This, my friends," he rapped his knuckles on the apparent door, feeling stone under his touch, "is a wall pretending to be a door."

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Salazar spent every free moment of the next week or so examining the "door". As far as he could determine, the thing used to create it was not paint. He used every scourging charm he could think of to remove it, attempted to scratch it off with a knife, tried to paint over it, but everything failed. The painting of the door remained there. He questioned all the students whether they had anything to do with it. He intimidated many of them, but none confessed to it. The door remained a mystery.

It was only about two weeks later that Rowena came up with something. They all gathered as was their wont in their private chamber in the evening, preparing to relax after a full day of chasing after children bent on every form of mischief ever created with magic and without, when she exchanged glances with Helga and opened her mouth.

"Helga and I have been… keeping watch on the strange staircase that we _know_ we built so that it will lead to the seventh floor and North Tower. As far as we noticed, it leads to the third floor once a week, and the rest of the time it leads to the seventh.

"Simultaneously, we asked a few of the older students to keep an eye open to anything weird happening about the Castle. So far they have reported…" she pulled out a neatly folded piece of parchment out of her waist pouch and, unfolding it, read "-'A vanishing step halfway through the side staircase leading to the Ravenclaw group chamber; a door that refuses to open unless asked nicely and flatteringly on the fourth floor; a room that appears only twice a week down at the first level of the dungeons; a new shortcut between the south corridor of the sixth floor and the northern one.' - I'm not too certain about this, my friends, but I think there may be more changes in other places, and I don't know about you, but I have no idea what is going on."

Salazar felt his mouth going dry. Was this some trick of Ambrosius'? Could he have finally managed to breach their defences? It was simply unthinkable. The only way in which it could possibly have happened, would be if he was working through their students, and Salazar did not want to think it possible of any of the children under his care. He did not put it past Ambrosius to do so.

The changes in the Castle's layout worried him. They could not know what else would change. For all they could know, one day they would wake up to find themselves bricked in their rooms by a new wall that would sprout up during the night, or discover that their rooms turned into new balconies. Students could be killed, accidents could happen. They had to find out what was going on.

That afternoon, just like every time they encountered something that they could not solve by themselves, they gathered in Sir Rhys' house in order to consult with him and Ceridwen. Now they also had Rosalind, who was a guest in Sir Rhys' house until the wedding would take place. Ceridwen would not hear of anything else. When Rosalind had rather timidly said that she would be comfortable enough in the Castle with her daughter, Ceridwen said that she would hate the noise the children made all day, every day, and said that she would stay with her. It had been done.

They explained the problem to their elders, each bursting into the others' words, arguing as they went, offering their colliding theories of what was going on, contradicting each others' theories and generally creating great mayhem. The three older people simply sat quietly, watching and listening as the four friends battled for dominion.

"But if it's really Ambrosius like Salazar suggested, then we will have to close the school!" Rowena suddenly said in alarm, interrupting Helga in the middle of her explanation that it had to be some terribly talented, mischievous student. "If that abominable man is messing with our home, then nowhere is safe! It cannot be it - we cannot _let_ it be that. Salazar, your suggestion is ridiculous!"

"Rowena, this is war. If our home is contaminated then we are in danger and must evacuate the building. We can't risk our lives just for sentimental value, nor can we risk the children's lives," Salazar said, feeling awful when he did. He understood Rowena's sentiments. He did not want to leave Hogwarts, either.

"The only this I can think of," Rosalind's soft voice surprised them all out of their argument, "is that somehow your Castle became alive."

Salazar felt his eyes widening in surprise. _Alive?_ How could a castle become _alive_?

Rosalind apparently spotted his surprise and that of the others, for she smiled. "Let me see if I can explain this to you, children," she said, her voice taking on the mantle of a teacher, her back straightening and her hands resting on her thighs. Apparently while they were all arguing, she had considered the options and came up with one of her own, as ludicrous as it may have sounded. "When you came here, as I understand it, this marvelous Castle of yours was nothing but rubble and few parts of wall still standing. You built this seven-floored building in about a year. It is sturdy, it is magnificent, and it will last for centuries and even millennia. Muggles would not have been able to do so. The rebuilding alone could have taken them a decade or more, depends on the amount of resources spent on the thing. Also, this building is so precariously built, with all its parts jutting out at various angles that were it Muggle, it would never hold.

"It is, however, as un-Muggle as these things get. Why does it hold? Why did it take you so little time to build it with mostly just the four of you? The answer is simple - magic. The four of you invested your magic in every single thing in this building. If I'm not very much mistaken, you used magic to lift the stones into place; you used it to stick them to their place. You used magic to carve the rock you needed and to carve decorations into the arches and some of the walls. Magic decorates the ceiling of your Hall, and magic protects you as you live here. Every single space in that place is soaking with magic.

"My conclusion, therefore, is that the Castle, in its own way, became alive. The magic you used to build it to your standards, now develops it further, allows it to change and reform itself. The magic turns your home into an even better, more interesting place than it previously was. It _plays_ with you in a way, making games to make life more enjoyable.

"You may think it's bad, that you don't really know where you will end up and that you will get lost because it changes all the time, but what you don't realize just yet is that there is certain regularity to the matter - there are _rules_. Like the staircase Helga found first. It changes only once a week. Just once a week it leads to another place. This about it, I'm sure you will find it true to everything that changed in your Castle."

As it turned out in the next month or so, Rosalind was more or less right. There were the things that were permanent, such as the door on the fifth floor, or the vanishing steps that they had discovered in staircases all over the school, and then there were those, like the staircase that led somewhere else on one day and to another at a different time. Things seemed to constantly change, but after a month of carefully watching every bit of the Castle, they had concluded that it was settling down and that no more sudden changes would plague their school. The students were soon notified of the changes, and as things calmed back down, Salazar had to admit that it _was_ far more interesting than before.

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After many an argument, it had been agreed that Godric and Rowena's wedding would take place the next summer. Ceridwen and Rosalind were adamant concerning this, saying that it would not be appropriate for two upstanding members of the Loch's community to marry in such a hurry, as though _they had something to hide_.

Rowena had blushed profusely at that, saying that it was nothing like that. Godric simply looked as though he had swallowed his tongue. He had mouthed wordlessly for a while, but then shut his mouth and glared at his mother and his future mother-in-law for even _suggesting_ that they would do something like that.

On the rebellion front, thing seemed to be looking up. Marlowe Cane's regular parcels containing phials filled with memories for the Pensieve (or as Helga insistently called it, the Basin of Memories), gave them a very clear inside look of the Council of Warlocks. The members of the Council seemed to divide themselves into two different fractions. Ambrosius, who still, unfortunately, held the position of Chief Warlock, headed the one and still dictated the Council's decisions, but to the other side were Lords Gaius and Billius, who, though not entirely opposing Ambrosius, opposed some of his more extreme decisions.

This rift in the Council contributed to slowing down the drafting by force to the Council's training camps, which meant that the four friends had managed buying themselves a little more time.

In the meanwhile, they were seeing members of many groups opposing Ambrosius, who came to offer their support as it became apparent that the four teachers from Hogwarts were their best chance at eliminating Ambrosius and his minions. Almost every other night the Council Hall was packed full of Knights and others, who came to confer with them and make their strategic plans. Knights of the Phoenix who did not live in the Loch were going back and forth from all over the country, bringing information, or offering ideas. The Castle, by day a school whose name started spilling farther and farther away, by night turned into a swarm of rebels, all preparing for a confrontation that may take years to come.

As weeks turned into months, the wedding day came closer with each passing day.

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"Oh, _Merlin_! Helga, I'm getting married in a month's time!" Salazar could hear Rowena's shriek, almost two corridors away.

Helga, who had been cuddling in his arms for the past hour or so, sighed and removed herself from the divan they were sitting on. "I had better go before she starts hyperventilating," she muttered, kissing his forehead.

As he watched her leave the room, he turned on his back, stretching on the divan. He did not know what was going to become of his and Helga's relationship. He was sure that he felt strongly for her, and they have been together longer than Rowena and Godric, and being together felt wonderful to him, but… Now that Godric and Rowena were going to be married, what would it do to what he and Helga had? He had seen the dreamy expression that stole over Helga's features many times in the past months, and he knew that it meant that she was fantasizing over the upcoming wedding. And so, slowly at first, and then at an overwhelming rush, he became afraid.

He was afraid that Helga would now expect _him_ to do the big step and ask _her_ to… But he was not ready for such a thing. Never in his relationship with the young woman did he even consider saying those words to her. It simply never came up - not in their conversations and not in his quiet moments alone.

It was not yet time for him to commit himself to such a thing - _Marriage_.

He was afraid of what would happen when Helga would realize that he would not be asking her to be his wife. Yet.

As far as he was concerned, he had to postpone any such life-changing decision to a later date. He was not the rushing-into-things type like Godric. He needed to think things over, mull over them, and have them properly thought-out before he acted upon them. No, marriage was not something to be considered just yet. He enjoyed his arrangement with Helga just the way it was.

When Helga returned later that day, she explained that Rowena was having a slight panic attack, and that they needed to calm her down, so she had taken her down to the village and to Sir Rhys' house, so that they could start on the wedding gown.

"Merlin! She's a bag of nerves, that woman," Helga said, settling back into her former place and half-turning so she could kiss him. "I had never thought I'd see Rowena like this. I definitely hope she will get over it, or the week leading to the wedding will be one big problem."

He nodded noncommittally and quickly diverted the subject to take her mind off weddings.

_Yes,_ he thought to himself as kissed her deeply, allowing his hands to wonder off. _I must keep her away from dangerous subjects such as that…_

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Helga's prediction that the week leading to the wedding would be hellish was not very far off the mark, but it was not Rowena who caused this. The students had been released for the summer the week before, but some of the village children whose parents had no need of their help stayed around for additional lessons, and help in difficult subjects.

Salazar was on his way to tutor a boy who needed help with his potions, passing the opening leading to the Council Hall, when Ceridwen's voice called him to halt.

"What is it?" he asked politely as he entered the room. There were piles of flowers everywhere, and colourful cloths of every kind. He dreaded the clash of colour those women could cause unwatched. His artistic soul protested loudly, but he kept it in check, allowing Ceridwen and Rosalind and their many female helpers have their fun.

"We need more help here," Godric's mother said briskly.

"Well, I'm on my way to a student, but-"

"Oh, I don't mean _you_, Salazar. This is woman business. Dahlia said Rhiannon is around here somewhere, studying Runes. Ask her to help, please?"

"Fine, fine," he waved her off and strode out of the Hall, grumbling to himself. Woman business, indeed!

He found Rhiannon in a small antechamber just off the entrance hall, frowning over a thick tome. Her dark brown hair fell into her eyes and every other second or so, she pushed it back irritably, a dripping quill in her hand leaving black marks on her pale cheeks.

"Rhiannon! I need your help, girl! Come here," Salazar called his niece, startling her out of her thoughts.

"What is it, Uncle Salazar?" she asked, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes yet again. "I'm doing my work."

"The work can wait. What is it, anyway?"

"Runes. I need to translate this page."

"I'll do it for you if you come and help me."

"Uncle!"

He laughed. "Will it make you feel better if I tell you that this is for the wedding?"

As he had expected, Rhiannon's eyes lit up. The girl adored both Rowena and Helga, and the fact that one of her role models was getting married to someone who was as good as her uncle made her ecstatic. "What do you need?"

"I need you to help Ceridwen with decorating the Council Hall. Would you do that for me? I know you're the best I can have."

Not saying another thing, Rhiannon skipped out of the room. He heard her footsteps accelerating into a run as she hurried to the Hall.

It was already late when he had descended to the Hall, intent on getting a look on the place for Godric's sake - just to make sure it was not _too_ brightly coloured, or too flowery, his friend said, with a look of absolute horror on his face.

"Ah, Salazar!" Ceridwen said, from her place near the rafters, where she had been levitated to by Rosalind who was on the ground. "I was wondering when will you come over - or anyone else for that matter. Rhiannon went out to pick more flowers over two hours ago. Would you go look for her? I know she has the tendency to stare at a butterfly in wonder for hours, and we _really_ need those flower arrangements of hers."

"Two hours?" he asked, frowning. "She's a responsible girl. She knows you need it. I'll go search for her. She may have fallen asleep or something. Where was she going?"

"The small vale just beyond the Loch. The prettiest flowers are there."

With a nod, he walked out in the direction of his horse.

The weather was fine that day, and Salazar had sincerely hoped that it would last until the wedding the next week. The vale was exactly where Ceridwen had told him. It was a lush, green thing, where brightly coloured flowers of all kinds flourished during all seasons. It was a pleasant place, a place where he could see his niece falling asleep in contentment, but it was also, very, very empty. Rhiannon was not there.

Getting off Cian, he walked into the vale, thinking there might be a land fold that might be hiding the girl. Still he could see nothing. Climbing atop one of the surrounding hills, he saw many other tiny ravines and vales between many other hills, but Rhiannon was nowhere in sight.

Taking a deep breath, he shouted "Rhiannon! Come on, girl! Don't make me worry! Rhiannon! Are you there? Rhiannon!"

There was no answer.

Frowning, he started descending down the hill and back towards Cian. It was when he reached the bottom of the vale that the screams began. Horrified, pained screams that pierced his ears. Someone was in trouble, and in an immense amount of pain. They were high enough to be those of a woman - or a girl.

"_Rhiannon!_" he shouted, trying to be heard over the screams coming from every direction. "Rhiannon! Hold on! I'm coming to get you! Hold on!"

All he got in reply was another loud scream, and then another, and another.

His head pounding, he raced back atop the hill. From the village, more than half a mile away, came alarmed shouts, and he knew that others would be coming soon. He could not wait however, his niece was in trouble. He had to get to her.

"Rhiannon!" He shouted again, trying to determine from which direction the sound was more than just an echo.

He ran and ran. He sped up low hillsides, stood atop them for a while and then raced back down, heart racing, blood pounding in his ears. He had no idea how long he ran, or where exactly he was. All that mattered was that he would reach his niece on time. That was all that mattered. All that he wished for. All that he could not have.

He heard the fire even before he had seen, felt, or smelled it. Horror filling his heart, he drew his wand and went around that final land fold. Whether he realized it or not, it was this sight that he would remember always.

There was a crowd of Muggles, cheering and laughing at the sight.

There was Rhiannon.

And she was burning.

With an angry scream, he leaped into the crowd of Muggles, pushed them aside, and not thinking of consequences, used his wand to douse the stake to which Rhiannon was tied. Her eyes met his for just one moment before he was overwhelmed by Muggles, excited to have snared another witch. A man-witch.

She was still alive.

He would not let them have his wand. Never. He cursed them, hexed them, kicked, scratched and bit. He was surrounded by red haze that would not let him go. He would kill each and every one of those men that were out for a witch hunt. In the back of his mind he could hear others, who must have seen the smoke rising from the fire and had an easier time of it reaching the place. There were screams of pain, and groans of death. He did not care. None could live for what they had attempted to do.

And then, without warning, there was no one left to fight. All lay dead on the cold ground, bloody and hacked to pieces.

Only then did Salazar turn to where two men were untying Rhiannon from the stake. Her chest moved only a little as they put her down gently, their face alternating between sadness and anger. Tears in his eyes, he knelt beside her. One look told him everything.

She was dead. Maybe not yet, but in a few minutes she would be. He had seen it before. Some witches and wizards were saved, only to die moments later from either taking in too much smoke, or from burning up partly. Rhiannon's legs were almost black, and the smoke that came from the fire before it was doused off, had taken its toll.

"Uncle…" her hand grabbed his, her parched lips opened only to the thinnest of cracks, her voice so weak that he had to lean down, blinking back his tears. "Uncle… tell… Aunt Rowena… that I rea… really wanted… to… be there… Tell… Mother and… Father… and Shane and… Warwick… not to be… sad. Tell them that… I want…little Searlas… to know… that I loved him… You… will?"

"Yes," he could barley let the words leave his throat, "I will. I love you, Rhiannon."

"I… love you… too… Uncle. I…Love…"

She never finished what she had wanted to say. The light died in her eyes, and her hand on his went limp. Rhiannon, daughter of Dahlia and Bran, was no more.

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It was a sad day in both the Loch and Hogwarts. A week that was supposed to be joyful, where people would prepare to celebrate the wedding of two important members of the community, had turned into a week of mourning for a girl everyone had known and loved. All people of the Loch were clad in black that week. All came to the funeral ceremony of Rhiannon. There was not a dry eye in the village's place of the dead.

Rowena wanted to cancel the wedding. She said that she did not want to contaminate her favourite student's, her adopted niece's, memory. She wanted to let the mourning run its course. It was then that Dahlia, her eyes red-rimmed and her throat hoarse from crying, had stamped her foot down, coming out of her house for the first time, saying that there was no better way to honour her little girl than to go on with the plan and be happy. Rhiannon had lived a happy life, she said, a small smile cracking on her face through the tears, and she would have wanted nothing better than to see her favourite teacher wedded. Dahlia was adamant about it, and had personally gone with Helga to make sure that Rowena was ready for her wedding day.

The ceremony had been a small one, all things considered. Rowena and Godric did not want the entire old fashioned Wizard Bonding in their way, and had told so to Rosalind and Ceridwen, who were greatly disappointed. What was left unsaid, however, was that they did not wish to hurt Dahlia and Bran by going through a lavish ceremony, while they still mourned the loss of their only daughter. Dahlia, though she had been the one to convince them to go through with it anyway, took the gesture in the spirit it was given.

It took place within the Council Hall. The Hall was intended to be covered by flowers and brightly coloured draperies, but those had been stripped down the day they had put Rhiannon to earth. Her delicate flower arrangements, so carefully made, had covered her as she had been lowered into the ground, framing her small, pale face and slight body, their lovely colours somehow accenting the fact that she would never wake again.

"You look lovely, Rowena," Dahlia said softly, wiping tears from her eyes as she observed her friend on that morning. Godric was not there. He was with Rhys, preparing for the ceremony himself. Salazar came by just for a moment to see if everything was all right, and found himself staring at Rowena in wonder. Dahlia was right. She looked lovely.

Her coppery hair in a complicated knot left her slender neck exposed. A generous part of her breasts was also to be seen above the dark green fabric of her velvet gown. The gown itself was covered with gold brocade. He had no idea how long it had taken the village's women to make, but he appreciated the hard, long work invested in it. She was really the right woman for Godric.

Smiling, he bowed to Rowena, who curtsied in return, a wide smile spreading on her own face, and then left the chamber in order to assist Godric, who was probably a nervous wreck by that time.

To his surprise, the Godric who was sitting beside Sir Rhys, listening to the older man's less-than-reassuring tales of weddings he had seen and what fools the bridegrooms had made of themselves, was exceedingly calm, and even grinned at him while hearing a particularly gruesome story about a man who had died at his own wedding from overstress.

After asking Godric how it was that he was so bloody calm, his friend laughed. There he could hear a note of panic. "By holding myself together with every ounce of my will," he explained.

The wedding ceremony itself was directed by Sir Rhys, who kept it nice and simple. He also shortened it considerably. By nightfall that day, Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor were lawfully wedded husband and wife.

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Life after the wedding had slowly taken their natural course. Nothing much had changed except for Rowena and Godric moving in to larger, joined quarters. They still argued, and still made up soon after, and he and Helga were still the same. He felt certain that he had managed to make her forget about any marriage proposals. At the end of the summer break at school, Rosalind took her leave, promising that she would try and come visit again during the spring. School began again. It was hard for Salazar to see his two nephews coming to the Castle without their sister, and he knew the family was still mourning her loss every day, but he knew that life had to go on.

And life did.

"Godric?" Salazar heard Helga's voice coming from Rowena's drawing room. "Salazar? Rowena wants to have a word with the two of you. Can you come in, please?"

The two were sitting next to the empty fireplace in the main chamber of Godric and Rowena's quarters, sipping wine and talking about their most recent information sent by Marlowe. Godric put down his glass and sighed. "She's going to reprimand us for drinking - you _do_ realize that?"

Salazar smirked. "She's going to reprimand _you_, you mean. She's _your_ wife."

"Trust me, I know," Godric replied with a smirk of his own.

"You are too satisfied to be allowed, Godric. Come then, let's see what Madam Ravenclaw has in store for us."

They walked into the drawing room, where the women were sitting, Helga knitting something with brightly-coloured yarn and Rowena busily alphabetizing her books with her back to them.

"Be a dear, Salazar, and hand me that _Runic Comprehension - Collection of Essays_," she said without turning back. "It's to your left."

Salazar did as bided, marveling at Rowena's ability to know what was behind her.

"Well, 'Wena?" Godric asked, settling himself in the big chair next to the fireplace. "Helga said you have something to tell us?"

"In a minute," she said. "Take a seat in the meantime, though I daresay you probably didn't even wait to be invited. Pour those two drunkards some tea, will you, Helga? I think it will do them much more good than that sour wine they've been delving into since noon."

Salazar laughed and sat down on the large sofa next to Helga, who, after serving the tea, immediately snuggled against him.

After a few minutes' time, Rowena turned to face them with a smile. "I have news to share with the two of you. They mean that a lot is going to change here in a short while. I already told Helga, but I think it's time for you two to know as well. At the end of the winter term, we will be joined with another member of our family."

"Is Rosalind coming early after all?" Godric asked.

Helga choked, but recovered and said "Rosalind will certainly be coming, but that's not the member Raven is talking about."

"Well," Salazar began. "Ceridwen and Dahlia live in the Loch, and-" he then saw the incredulous expression on both women's faces and realization dawned on him. His eyes grew to the size of saucers. "_Oh_. Surely you don't mean-"

"I do," Rowena said with a bright, somewhat smug, smile.

"You've lost me," Godric confessed, and Salazar fought the urge to knock some sense into his friend's head - physically.

"Let me see if I can clarify things for you, my friend," he said sweetly. "When Rowena said _another_, what she actually meant was a _new_ member of the family."

Godric frowned, took a sip from his cup of tea - and choked.

They had to thump him on the back for a while before he could stutter "A-a-a-a-a _baby!_"

Rowena laughed. "Yes, you big lump! You are going to have your Firstborn in half a year's time."

"But-but - how did this _happen_?"

"Well, dear," Rowena said in a deliberately slow, pointed voice," do you remember that night after the village's Midsummer Feast? I daresay you will, since you were very - _passionate_ - that night, were you not? If you don't, then shall I remind you how we climbed up the stairs with our-"

Godric's cheeks turned red, and Salazar was quite certain that his were not a shade lighter. That woman needed to know that not _everything_ required repeating. Attempting to salvage what was still possible, Godric begged his wife to stop, since he _did_ know where babies came from.

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The following months were filled with excitement. The entire Castle and the village as well were abuzz with the news of Mistress Ravenclaw's pregnancy. Women all over the Loch began knitting for the unborn child. Scarves, and blankets, hats and little clothes were soon piling in every house. The men did their share, offering to build cradles and small wooden baths. The children in the Castle swarmed all over Rowena, asking to touch her growing belly, to see if they could feel the baby kicking.

In the first few months they had all taken the students' interest in good spirits, but as weeks went past, their enthusiasm diminished.

There was something not quite right with Rowena. She had pains that the other women of the village never experienced. At times she was completely incapacitated, staying in bed all day. The midwife came at least once a week to see what was happening. She somberly told Godric, Helga and Salazar that she predicts a hard birth.

Extremely worried, Godric sent a letter to Rosalind, asking that she would come at once and help. She was there within the week, this time a guest at the Castle, not wishing to leave her daughter alone. She looked extremely worried when she came out of Rowena's drawing room on the day she had arrived.

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Winter was finally waning, and Rowena still had not given birth. They were all sitting together in their private chamber after a day of teaching, though Rosalind was absent, having already withdrawn for the night. Rowena yet again failed to teach her classes. She sat in a heavily padded chair, given to her by one of the villagers especially for her pregnancy, looking disgruntled and fretful. She could not seem to find a comfortable place in her chair.

"Ooof," she finally let out, getting out of her chair with great effort. "When will this brat get _out_?"

Salazar looked at his friend. She definitely had cause to complain, he admitted to himself. Her beautiful figure was now so rounded, that she could not even see her feet. She suffered great backaches and all through those nine months she would sometimes be bedridden due to various pains, which meant that her students have had either free hours, or study some other subject. She was exceedingly pale, particularly during that last month, and a worried Godric confided that she was not eating well. Also, she was irritable. There were days when they could not get a word past her before she burst out in a fresh bout of bad temper.

Salazar did not blame her. The baby was due almost a week before, and even the midwife was starting to get worried. The students were also very concerned for their teacher's health. As much as she could be annoying, the girls especially looked up at her as a role model, some practically worshiping her. Now they all asked the other three about her health state at every possible moment. It was getting to be rather exasperating.

"I don't know about you," she said, one of her hands resting on her lower back, the other on her rounded belly, "but I am off to bed. Goodnight." Then she kissed Godric and wandered out of the chamber, muttering to herself in an undertone.

"I think I had better go with her," Helga said. "Just to make sure she's all right." And she left, too.

The two men glanced at each other. There were no words needed between them at that moment. Godric was extremely anxious. He had never had any experience with pregnant women, but even he knew something was wrong with his wife. Salazar did not know what to say to sooth him. He himself knew that pregnancies could exceed the preordained time, and a week was not that unusual, but Rowena herself was not well, and that _did_ loom in his mind as something unpredictable and inevitably wrong.

Both men got up as one, exchanged their goodnights and left for their own chambers.

Unlike the previous two weeks, Salazar did not sleep fitfully that night. He slept soundly and even dreamed a good dream which he had enjoyed, when he was abruptly disturbed.

"Salazar?" he heard a voice, breaking into his pleasant dreams. "Salazar?"

He turned over, trying to find that meadow again, where he could see children laughing and singing. He almost found it - he could see the green grass just ahead, but the insistent voice returned, this time more urgent. "Salazar!"

Frowning, he reached for the grasses, but someone jabbed a finger between his ribs and he was startled awake.

"Helga?" What _was_ she doing in his bedchamber in the middle of the night?

"Thank Merlin!" she said sharply, her face somber, golden tresses massed about her face in a messy pile. "I thought you'd never wake! Come on! Godric just came to get me. The baby is coming."

"The baby is coming? Isn't it a bit unexpected?"

"Not really, but it doesn't look good. I attended a few births when my mother still thought I'd inherit her in the midwifery business, and the signs are not good."

"Oh, _Merlin!_"

"Indeed. Rosalind is already with her, and I sent one of the House Elves to get the midwife from the village and to inform Ceridwen, but I need you to distract Godric - he almost broke down the door when I tried to kick him out, so I had to stun him. Keep him in check, all right? I don't need him running underfoot."

"Understood."

As soon as she saw him rising, Helga disappeared, apparently rushing to her friend's side. Salazar quickly pulled on a robe and hurried out. He found Godric recovering from the aftereffects of Helga's stunning spell just outside Rowena's and Godric's quarters.

Godric was groaning quite loudly as Salazar helped him to his feet. He looked dazedly around him, and then his eyes lit up in alarm. "Rowena! The baby! I have to-"

Salazar clamped one hand over his friend's mouth and the other firmly on his shoulder. "You have to do nothing but sit somewhere far away from here and calm down," he said quietly.

Godric nodded uncertainly, apparently still not sure of his whereabouts or what was going on because of the stunning spell. It is possible that Salazar would have been able to steer his friend away from the door to his quarters and perhaps even get him drunk and unconscious, had they not heard Rowena scream.

They heard her screaming just as Salazar had managed to make Godric move a few steps in the direction of the staircase leading to the ground floor. It took all Salazar could do to keep Godric restrained. He feared that he would have to stun him again. Godric was doing his best to tear himself out of Salazar's grip and straight to the door.

"You know they said to stay outside," Salazar gritted, tightening his grip on Godric, straining against his pull. "It's a women's business, Godric. They know what they're doing - so keep your big nose out of it!"

"But - but, _Salazar_! She's screaming!" It was at least semi-coherent, so Salazar assumed the stunning spell finally completely wore off. He had to think fast.

"Yes, she's screaming," he said in his most patient voice, "but there's nothing you can do about it, now is there? She's more likely to start screaming at _you_ for causing her all this trouble to begin with and that might make her situation grow worse. Helga, Rosalind, Ceridwen, Dahlia and the Village's midwife are all there with her. I doubt they'd welcome another pair of hands - and useless hands at that."

Grumbling, Godric settled down on the floor by the door and Salazar knew that there was no way he would be able to make him move. Sighing, he sat down next to him, leaning back on the wall, determined to be there in case Godric would take it into his mind to do something stupid.

As soon as the sun rose and the students went to their morning meal and discovered that none of their teachers were there, it was easily deduced that Mistress Ravenclaw was having her baby. Curious students went to the corridor in which Godric and Rowena's quarters were situated, only to be roared at by a distraught Godric. No later than midday, it was quickly passed throughout the school that it would be a very bad idea to go up there. Salazar was thankful for that.

It was past midnight when the door to the chambers within cracked open. The screams had stopped hours before. He was rather certain that Rowena was simply too exhausted to go on. Were he not there, Godric would have assumed the worst.

The second the door opened, Godric sprang to his feet, quickly followed by Salazar. The two watched it intently. Salazar's heart was in his throat, hoping that the one coming out would be the bearer of good news. It was Rosalind, and she looked exhausted. She looked up at them, and there was no sorrow in her expression. Only relief and contentment.

"Lord Gryffindor," she said with a bright smile dawning on her tired, sweaty face, "I am proud to present you - your son."

Salazar stood back, allowing a stunned Godric access to the woman holding the small bundle. And small it was. The tiny face peeking out of the small blanket Lleulu had spent months painstakingly embroidering with cheerful scenes was so small that Salazar was afraid that Godric would break the baby. His friend could be so clumsy at times. But as he watched, the big man gently cradled the baby in his arms and bent his head to gaze at him.

When Godric looked up, Salazar was not surprised to see tears streaking his cheeks.

"My son, Salazar," Godric let out in a choked out voice. "My Firstborn." Then he looked back at Rosalind. "Rowena - is she…?"

Rosalind's smile faded a bit, but she said "She'll be all right in a few days' rest. I'm afraid my line is not very well adapted to childbirth. She's exhausted and in pain, but she _will_ recover. Have no fear."

And all was well again.

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From his place on the raised platform at the end of the Council Hall, of which their table had been removed for the time being, Salazar watched the great gathering that had come to celebrate the ceremony of the Firstborn with them. The expression on all faces was that of benevolent congratulations and happiness for the couple whose wedding they had witnessed less than a year before.

On the platform, together with him, stood Helga, Ceridwen, Rosalind, Rhys, Dahlia, Bran and Shane, ready to bear witness of the ceremony. In the center stood Godric, his hand resting lightly on Rowena's shoulder, who, despite her loud protests, and in general agreement, was sitting in her padded chair, holding the little boy whose name was to be revealed that afternoon. Rowena and Godric had refused telling even their closest friends and their mothers what they had chosen to name their son. They said it would ruin the ceremony.

As soon as the crowd quieted down, Godric cleared his throat and said "Rowena and I would like to thank you all for coming to this very special event.

"The Firstborn in a wizarding family, be it boy or girl, carries within it the promise of a new generation, a new life, a chance for the family to go on. It is the heir to a great part of the family's fortune.

"Our Firstborn is a boy, a strapping young boy who will one day grow to be a man. His future is unknown, his choices yet unformed. He may become a great warrior, taking his father's and his grandfather's trail. He may become a scholar of great renown, like his mother and his grandmother. This is not the reason for which we have come here. Here we will not discuss his future. Here we have gathered in order to celebrate his birth and honour him.

"In the tradition of Magic People all over the country, we have gathered eight people who are dear to us for various reasons. Each one of those people had been given a week to consider what they would like to bestow upon our child, the bearer of our hopes. The child's mother and I would also give him our gifts. We would now ask for silence. The magic will be put to work."

Rowena, her eyes shut, raised her wand and called out, her wand moving in intricate movements, "_For the love of a mother, for the pride of a father, we gather here together. Eight of blood, by line or friendship; two who gave life; ten who will bequeath their blessing and their gift. I call before thee, to the magic that will bind, to the promises upheld and to the love that will conquer._

"Salazar Slytherin, I call thee forth."

His heart beating in his chest, Salazar stepped forward, and approached Rowena who was sitting regally on her chair. He kneeled before her and held his hands joined above the head of the newborn child.

"I wish you the strength of heart that both your parents have," he began, hearing his voice ringing in the silence around him. "That you will be true to yourself and to those you love no matter what; that you will be able to uphold you ideals and not give in to those who would wish to break you down. I wish that you will be able to keep your heart strong and true even through the worst of your ordeals. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Getting up to his feet, Salazar felt great relief, knowing that he had not fumbled in his words, and that he had not embarrassed Rowena and Godric for choosing him. Quietly he got back to his place. The minute he was there, Rowena's voice rang out again.

"Helga Hufflepuff, I call thee forth."

Watching it from the sidelines was much more fascinating than doing it himself, he decided, watching Helga as she kneeled before Rowena. It was certainly more calming. Helga, however, seemed to feel like he had felt giving his blessing. Perspiration glistened on her forehead as she spoke her words.

"I wish you that you will always know to appreciate beauty in all its forms," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "That you will know that even the lowliest creature deserves your appreciation and respect, because there is something beautiful in all living things. I wish that your life would be paved with that beauty and charm, and that you will never have to ruin your inner splendor because of someone else's schemes. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

After Helga came Rosalind, who wished him "Great knowledge beyond compare, that will make you realize that not everything is as it seems. That you will know that truth does not always appear on the surface, and that you will always find a way to uncover that truth for the best of all. I wish you that you will always know how to use that knowledge, and that it will bring you nothing but good. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Ceridwen, her eyes shining with pride, glancing at her son as she kneeled, said, with tears in her eyes "I wish you love. I wish that you will know love in all forms - In friendship and in the love of a woman. That you will always feel that those around you love you and know you for your true self; that they would never cast you off for earthly goods and that their loyalty to you be because you are truly appreciated and admired. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Rhys, his old knees making cracking noises as he kneeled, but his voice as strong as ever, wished the little boy "Wisdom. To know what is right and what is wrong. That you will always know what decision is the true one to make and the reasons for which it is right. That you will never err in your ways and that you will help to create a better place for all those who are dependent on you or feel responsible to you. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Dahlia, on trembling feet, actual tears streaming down her cheeks, wished "A caring soul that will take you far. That you will feel empathy to all those who deserve it; that you will care for wounded strays and wounded people. That you will always see where your help is needed and your support required. I wish that you will be renowned for your care and be cared for by others accordingly. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Not bothering to wipe his own tears away, Salazar knew that his sister was talking about her daughter, wishing Rowena and Godric's boy to be just like her Rhiannon.

Bran, who had been more than a little surprised at being asked to wish for the child, considering the slight enmity that ran between him and the four friends, said, in a very gruff voice that "I wish you that you will be as strong as your father. That you will always be able to protect the ones you love, no matter at what cost; that you will use your strength to do nothing but good, and never evil. I wish that your strength will bring a great future to all those around you, who will support you and appreciate you for your help and protection. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Then there was Shane. Salazar knew why he had been asked. The oldest son of Bran and Dahlia had timidly approached Rowena and Godric as they debated who they shall ask as the eighth person, and asked to bless their child. Normally, this would have been considered a complete breach of procedures, but they had all known the reason for his request. They had assented.

And so, as the young man kneeled before Rowena, his quiet voice echoed strongly in the Hall. "I wish you a great future. I wish you life, long and prosperous. I wish you that you will live to see better days, when witches and wizards would not need to be afraid of being killed, that you will live to see days where we would be able to protect ourselves from those who wish to annihilate us. I wish you happiness, pure and simple. I wish you life of wonder and beauty. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Shane was about to rise, tears staining his face just like his mother's, but was stopped by Rowena's hand on his shoulder. She could not say a thing that was out of the ceremonial protocol, since it would ruin the whole ritual, but from his place to one side of the platform, Salazar could see her soft smile and her nod of thanks. She would tell Shane exactly what he wish had meant to her later on, but for now, this was enough. Shane smiled back at her, and returned to his place.

"Godric Gryffindor, father of the child, I call thee forth."

Godric, a wide smile almost breaking his face in half, kneeled before his wife and son and said the first half of the Sealing of the Blessings.

"_I wish you that all the blessings bestowed upon you this day shall be multiplied and upheld. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be. I wish you that happiness will be your share in life. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be. I wish you justice and truth. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be. I am thy father, who helped bring you into this world, and therefore so it shall be._"

Rising to his feet, he held his hand out to Rowena, who took it and rose as well. Holding her baby tightly in one arm, she used her other hand to touch the child's forehead and say the second half of the Sealing. "_I am thy mother, who brought you into this world. For that I have the right and the duty to say yes or nay to all your blessings._

"_Strength of Heart - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be so. _

"_Appreciation of Beauty - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be._

"_Great Knowledge - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be._

"_Love - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be._

"_Wisdom - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be._

"_A Caring Soul - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be._

"_Strength of Your Father - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be._

"_A Great Future - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be._

"_I wish you all your blessings, my son. That and more. May your wishes always be with you: guide your hand, your heart and your soul. I am the mother of this child, I am she who gave him life. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be._"

Smiling widely, even more than before, Godric gently took the child from his wife's arms and turned to face the crowd watching silently.

"And in the face of this gathering, we name thee Ryan Gawain Salazar Rhys Ravenclaw Gryffindor, Firstborn of Godric Gawain Rylan Gareth Gryffindor and Rowena Catrin Deryn Ravenclaw. We name thy guardians Salazar Ailill Searlas Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff. Welcome to the Wizarding World. May your life be long and prosperous," he said in a proud voice, holding his squealing, frightened baby boy high up in the air.

All the congregated Knights, students and people of the Loch were cheering in greeting, only scaring the poor thing even more.

Once Godric put the child back in his mother's arms, Salazar looked at his ward critically. "It is a big name for one so small," he finally said, hiding the fact that he was honoured and excited to be commemorated in the child's name.

"He will grow into it," Godric said defensively, feeling protective of his Firstborn.

"He didn't _feel_ this small when he was on his way out," Salazar caught Rowena's whisper to Helga and choked on it for a while. He was not used to hearing about certain womanly functions. It shook his confidence quite a bit to hear about it.

As Rosalind had predicted, Rowena had recovered after a bit of rest. It had taken her the better part of two weeks, but she had recovered, and as she was now sitting proudly on the padded chair with her son in her arms, she practically glowed. She had said that she wanted to get back to teaching just as soon as she would be able to stand on her feet for a few hours without tiring. Godric had protested, naturally, but Salazar knew it was a lost fight. Life was back to normal in the Castle of Hogwarts.

Everything would be all right, he told himself, as he watched his little "family", all happy and smiling. Everything.

**This is it for this time, people! Sadness and happiness all wrapped up in one - I hope you didn't mind. It was so hard for me to kill Rhiannon - I was seriously considering just having her wounded or something, but I finally realized that it simply won't do, for it has a purpose. Please don't hate me - I really loved her. I'm not too good at tragic scenes, so I'm sorry if it didn't bring tears to your eyes…**

**And now, it is your turn - review this chapter and tell me all about it - liked it? Hated it? Just tell me!**

**My reviewers:**

**FirstDaysOfSummer:** thank you very much! Here, see? I updated sooner, as asked!

**FizzingWhizbeez:** ((hides)) don't coerce me, please! ;) I think this chapter even progressed the Castle further, don't you think :D As you can probably guess, I have already started with their separation. It will take time, but sadly, as we all know, it _would_ happen. The story, I feel safe enough in telling you, resting assured I'm not betraying too much, ends about three years after Salazar's departure, and then there's the epilogue. Harass away - I need that push sometimes. Again, thanks for your reviews - they're great.

**Moonlight on the Water:** I'm glad you thought the previous chapter was a cheerful one, for this one, as you can see, is a mixed one in that aspect… as much as I didn't want it to be. I think that you can see now the very start of the breaking away. It isn't obvious, but it's a start - and I hated doing it. When I started writing this fic I didn't imagine it would be this hard to write his departure (already half-written, by the way, but I haven't the heart to finish it just yet…).

You live through those finals - I promise. You may wish you didn't about halfway through, but you will ;)

Also, I have updated! Was it any good? Thanks!

**Innekeminneke:** Thank you! Heh, I'm glad that you were unto it - the engagement, I mean. Nope. Not wishful thinking - just thinking the same as me ;) Rowena _can_ cook if she absolutely have to, but she's a really messy cook - I think I mentioned it - back when they were still at the house. This time, as you can see, it was the House Elves, to the kitchen's relief :P

**Goldfish from Mars:** Wouldn't she? ;) I like my arse the way it is, though, so I think I'll lay off Godric… Thank you very much!

**disaffectedHSstudent:** Heh, thanks for the suggestion :) I'll take it into account, but I already have most of the fic thought-out and about half-written, and Cane really is a minor character. Thank you for the review!

**TimeWaitsForNoOne:** More frequent updates, here I come! (though the next will be only in a month's time most likely…). Oooh, I _love_ Salazar, but unfortunately, due to JKR's decision, he has to go… as for _how_ he will go, the seeds are already there - you just have to look for them! ;) Thanks!

**Rockergurl13:** Yep, Rosalind's still out there! You're quite welcome - and thank _you_ for the review!

**shadow-n-the-dark:** Glad you're so happy! Can I have chocolate-chip cookies? Mmm… I promise I will watch out for flying purple naked mole rats. I hear they're rather scary… ((glances nervously about)) thank you!

**BrownEyedAthena:** But I didn't leave long till the cliffie is resolved! Well, as you can see, Rosalind is Rowena's mother! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! Thanks!

**Black Chaos and Light Catastrophe:** is this a new penname I see before me? ;) thank you very much - and here - the newest chapter to prevent you from dying:D

**That's it for today. As I said, hopefully I would have the time to update before I go to England, but if not… well, see you on the first week of October!**

**By the way, I reread some of my first chapters… why didn't anyone tell me how many mistakes I have there? I sincerely hope I got better…**

**Anyway, love you all, hugs and kisses to everyone!**

**-Star of the North**


	20. Spark of Hope

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** I'm back from bloody cold England (though I must admit the weather was fine most of the time - a lot more sun than I learned to expect from that dreary island…), where I have spent three wonderful weeks. It had been a great trip, and I absolutely cannot wait to get back there as soon as possible (which, admittedly, for various reasons, would not happen in at least three years or so, probably more). As a matter of fact, I am back for two weeks now, but you know how it is when there are family holidays and all… no time to do anything but sit around a table and eat :P ((groans and pats bloated stomach))

So anyway, the most **_important_** of this note is:

Many of you had commented that the Ceremony of the Firstborn strikes you as the same as (or at least resembling to) the scene in The Lion King where Simba is being presented to the whole "kingdom" after his birth. While after reading your reviews I was quite amused to find that it _did_ have something in common, rest assured that this was not in my mind when I wrote the Ceremony. I haven't seen The Lion King in years, and the Ceremony was not inspired by that scene in the movie at all.

As it were, it's quite the logical thing to happen in both the movie and my story, since the whole congregation comes to see the new heir in both occasions, and it is inevitable that the father - or sort of godfather or guardian - (patriarchal society and all that, you know. Unfortunate for us women, but true) would proudly show the newly born infant to the whole people by thrusting the panicking baby up in the air and showing him or her off.

That said, next update is undetermined (depends on holidays and whether I get a job or not), but I'll do my best to update within a week or two. I promise that four months breaks will not recur.

Enjoy!

P.s. _Tale of a Time Long Gone _is now being translated into Portuguese by the wonderful **Angela Danton**! Isn't that great? I'm breaking into new languages!

**Chapter 19 – Spark of Hope**

_"While we know that the Council as a whole stood against the Founders of Hogwarts, there is one mystery left unsolved, that if we, as modern scholars, think it over, there can be only one possible answer that will adequately explain it._

_"The Founders, from a certain point, were able to successfully challenge every move of Ambrosius. At the time, people attributed it to what Muggles call Telepathy, or as we know it, Occlumancy. However, that Art of extracting the thoughts out of other people's heads had not been perfected at their time and only a meager few could do it. While we must admit that the Founders were all exceptionally powerful, it is unlikely that they had used it, especially over such long distances._

_"It is, therefore, a mystery. How _did_ the Founders keep up with Ambrosius' moving of his forces, his most secret plans? It is our opinion that one of the Lords of the Council had turned his back on Ambrosius and had chosen to help the Hogwarts Rising. Who is was, we may never know…"_

**-Hogwarts, A History; Author Unknown**

Rosalind left soon after the Ceremony of the Firstborn, claiming that she needed her space, and that besides, she had lived in the house Raven Lord had built for so many years that leaving it, in her eyes, was one and the same as cursing his memory.

Godric did not know how to take her sudden absence. The time she had spent with them, though short, was very intense, and all of a sudden, she was no longer there. For one, he was quite intimidated by his wife's mother, a woman of standing - and a very stiff-necked one at that - but he also found himself missing her random input in conversation, always constructed and well thought-out before it had ever left her mouth. She had a presence, that was certain, and with Raven Lord as a father, he was not surprised Rowena came out the way she did. But something in Rosalind was much more refined. She was Rowena without the rough edges, almost never losing her temper, polite and concise. If you talked nonsense she would let you know, but in the most delicate of ways. He supposed that his wife's bluntness came from her father.

And now that Rosalind was not there anymore, he felt her absence clearly. Rowena did as well it seemed, for she was down for a while, a thing his own mother associated with both the departure of Rosalind and the aftermath of the birth of their son.

Their son. Dear Merlin, how happy the simple thought had made him! Their Firstborn was a healthy, beautiful baby whom he was immensely proud of even though the months preceding his birth were hard both on Godric and especially on Rowena. The decision to name him Ryan had been hard, because they had both wanted to commemorate their fathers in the baby's name. They had thought about it long and hard and finally had agreed that their first boy would be named after Raven Lord, the next after Gawain Gryffindor, and in the same time his name would also appear in their Firstborn's full name.

Godric could not help but remember Rosalind's face when she had handed him his child with a soft smile. She looked so happy. So… _content_. He remembered being told at some point that her body had been irrevocably damaged after Rowena's birth and that this was the reason behind Rowena being an only child. It was then he had realized that in a way, his own son was the embodiment of all the children she never had had the chance to have. It made him glad to think that.

Now that she was gone, however, it was time to get back to the normal flow of life. Expectedly, as soon as Rowena was on her feet again she demanded to take over her lessons once more. Though all three of her friends argued that she would at least stay out of the teaching for a few of months, just until Ryan would be a little less dependent on her, a month after the birth she appeared in the classroom where Godric was attempting not to mess up her charm-work students too much, Ryan firmly attached to her by a piece of stout fabric, and flatly told him to assemble his Phoenix Lore class and get out of her way.

The first couple of months she did that were more than a little exciting for her students. At the most unexpected times the baby's shrill cries would start without any warning given. Then Rowena would have to go into a nearby room to nurse him and that way major parts of the lessons would go awry.

Soon enough, however, the students grew used to the baby's presence in their midst. The girls, as girls are liable to, cooed over him, giggled and baby-talked to him. The boys, more reserved and very aware to what other boys would think of them, remained at the background, but Godric, often using his hours off to take Ryan off Rowena's hands for an hour or two, thought he spotted them smiling in spite of themselves and making faces at his boy whenever they thought no one was looking. He found that exceedingly amusing.

It was safe to say, so he thought, that a great sense of relief had entered the atmosphere at Hogwarts. The months preceding Ryan's birth had been hard on Rowena and her students were worried. Now that there was a baby they all allowed themselves to relax, no longer feeling obliged to keep an eye on their teacher. He had the feeling, however, that as Ryan would grow, he would have many watchers making sure he did not hurt himself. Their students, he could see, would see themselves responsible for the little boy because they knew him since birth.

And so life continued. On the Ambrosius front there was no key development at all in the few months after the birth. They heard next to nothing from Marlowe Cane - just little tidbits about the plan of mustering the forces of the Wizarding World and nothing else of substance. The silence was on one hand quite alarming, but on the other, it brought a sense of the relief to them all. They still had time.

It was only well into summer, on a cold, foggy night, that anything happened. It was also possibly the last thing any of them had expected, but would turn to be one of the greatest catalysts of the inevitable confrontation between the Founders and the Council.

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He came under the cover of dark and fog. His footsteps masked by distant thunder, his arrival unplanned.

Rowena had long since put Ryan to bed and settled by Godric's side with a low sigh that he had learned to recognize as one of total exhaustion and realized that he would have to get up that night if Ryan decided to complain. His boy had a strong pair of lungs in his little body, and he made good use of them. Helga had brought her knitting sometime earlier and was already halfway through a lumpy blanket of an unidentified design and Salazar was in the process of sketching something on a piece of parchment when a hasty knock made them all alert and wary. Knocks in the middle of the night rarely signaled something good at the best of times, and these, to say the least, were not these times.

"Come in," Godric said, his hand sneaking almost absent-mindedly down to take hold of his wand. These were dangerous times, he reasoned when he noticed the route his hand had taken, it never harmed anyone to be careful.

The door opened just wide enough to allow two figures entry one after the other and then slammed close behind them. The second figure, a hooded, rather tall man sagged in apparent relief against the door. One of his hands was twitching involuntarily in apparent nervousness. His companion, the bulky, familiar Sir Deiniol, shook his head in silent bewilderment.

"It's safe here, yes?" the hooded man asked the Knight in a low, somewhat melodious voice. There was such a note of hope in that question, that Godric felt sympathetic already, without even knowing what this man was doing there or, for that matter, who he was.

Sir Deiniol snorted at the question. "Safer than in your own mother's womb, my cowardly cousin. If Hogwarts wasn't safe, then Ambrosius would have had his wish and the lot of us would have been dead a long time ago. You're in the power center of the north, just as I had promised."

"So _this_ is Hogwarts?" the man asked in owe, eliciting another sign of surprise from Sir Deiniol.

"Where did you _think_ I was bringing you, you daft man? You said you needed to talk to them, and it's clearly known that Hogwarts is where they live - even to you who live in the south. Ambrosius made sure of that, didn't he?"

"Well, yes," the man admitted. "But from what Ambrosius tells us, Hogwarts is a rundown hut."

"And you _believed _him?"

This conversation could have lasted all night long for all Godric cared. The big Knight had always been reserved, quiet, unflustered, but the man whom Sir Deiniol called cousin seemed to reveal a different side of the Welsh-born man. Godric was fascinated to see this new side of his personality and wanted to see where this exchange would lead to next. Sadly enough, however, Salazar decided it was time to stop the banter.

"Excuse me, Sir Deiniol," he interrupted with a slight clearing of the throat. "But who is your companion?"

"Oh!" the man in the hood exclaimed. "I do beg your pardon, Lord Slytherin!" Then he pushed back his hood and Godric could not help but stare.

Their guest was none other than the ginger-haired Lord Billius of Cheshire.

Lord Billius had always been one of the more bearable men in the Council. True, he could be as corrupt as the lot of them, but with him you at least knew that there was a chance of you being heard. He was a good man at heart, Godric felt, but then again, so were many of those who sat in the various seats of power within Stonehenge and they all hated Godric and Salazar with a passion. They were good men who found it easier to take the comforts their position in the Council had offered them, no questions asked. They easily ignored the suffering their doings were causing, indulging themselves and their families in wealth taken from those of lesser status. When all things were said and done, they were human.

So the question ranking highest in Godric's list of questions was what exactly was he doing in Hogwarts, risking his own, previously meticulously cared-for, life?

Billius was a tall man, wiry and energetic. While liking the comforts the Council under Ambrosius had given him, he also very much enjoyed keeping the pompous Chief Warlock on his toes. Member of the same party as Lord Gaius, but much more eccentric than his older compatriot, it was most likely that it would be he that would eventually turn on Ambrosius at the least expected moment.

It seemed that this _was_ the least expected moment. Therefore Godric was not all too surprised to hear his first words. What came next was what _truly_ astonished him.

"As you probably have guessed, I am here to betray Lord Ambrosius," he said cheerfully, seating himself in a free armchair, not waiting to be invited. "What you _don't_ know, is that I am Gaius' special envoy here, to bargain with you on his behalf."

A moment of silence was followed by a surprised intake of breath from Salazar. "You mean Gaius has finally decided to take sides?"

"We-ell…" Billius said, stretching, "I certainly wouldn't have come here by myself if it wasn't Gaius behind it. I may hate Ambrosius, but I like my skin the way it is, thank you very much." His dark eyes twinkled merrily and he seemed ready to burst out laughing. "Dear old Gaius thought about it for a long time, and while I admit that I helped nudging him into the conclusion that there was no future in the Council under the Master of Pomposity, I would not be as foolish enough as to come here without any firm backing."

The silence resumed its rule over the room as the four friends contemplated what Billius was saying.

Godric did not know what to say. For so long they hoped that Gaius would indeed see that the future lay in Hogwarts, but none of them dared to say it out loud. It was a distance hope, something that was important, but not very liable. Now that it was here, he did not know where to go to. There were so many options! Gaius was the Lord of so many lands, the caretaker for so many magic communities that resided under his rule. One word from him would muster and align relatively massive forces on their side.

"So…" Helga's voice came, soft and low, "what has Lord Gaius to say? We are open to hear his words."

"_Finally_ one of you speaks!" Billius exclaimed in a loud voice, clapping his hands. Once his initial fear dissolved, his natural personality emerged again. He was a very loud man, Godric wryly remembered. Loud and rambunctious, sharp-tongued and belligerent. It was no wonder he was always at odds with the naturally domineering Chief Warlock.

Jumping out of his chair and then pacing back and forth, Lord Billius started speaking at a very high speed, miraculously never stumbling over his words or skipping over them. "After watching Ambrosius' behaviour closely - like a hawk, as they say - for a very long time, Gaius has arrived at the conclusion that the ass is no longer to be trusted. The state of his mind is to be questioned. He is, Gaius says, a madman, and it is a wonder that no one has noticed this before, since his eyes gleam with the light of complete insanity. His decisions in the past few years have been atrocious if not verging on the perverse and they are forcing Gaius to look back into the days before Ambrosius has taken over the Council and re-evaluate all that had happened.

"It is our opinion that Ambrosius has taken over the Council by illegal means, meaning he had poisoned old Lord Fenwick in order to achieve this position. He has, it has come to our knowledge, taken the vile man, Marcus Gregory, into service again, though it was against all that had been decided during Gregory's trial, legally conducted by Ryan Raven Lord, the commander of the Knights of the Phoenix, and Gawain Gryffindor, the Council's representative in the trial and Raven Lord's second-in-command. And we have also discovered that he had been the one to annul Raven Lord's judgment that Gregory should be relieved of his life.

"It has also come to our knowledge that Ambrosius has authorized many actions against law-abiding, upstanding members of the community who had dared contradict him by words alone. After taking all we know into consideration, Gaius has decided that we must not allow this debauchery to continue. Feeling that you are the last and only chance to cause the downfall of the bastard of York, he is now offering you an alliance.

"While for the time being he and I will remain in the Council and say nothing of our intended departure from his side in order to not cause suspicion, know that we - in the case of us striking an agreement - will do all in our power to delay any military action against Hogwarts. Once we make our move, we promise to supply you with reinforcements of our own men, settled two days away from Hogwarts, in hiding, ready to assist you should the need arise. We will be by your side, thick and thin, magic and body. You can count on us." He then stopped, took a deep breath and with a bright smile on his face sat down again.

"This is all very well," Rowena said, her eyes narrowed, "but you have said nothing about your terms. You cannot possibly offer this for free."

Godric did not like the satisfied grin on the man's face. He did not like it at all.

"Ah, yes," said Billius." Now we come to the matter at heart. Our terms…"

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The students coming either from their group chambers or from the village the next morning were surprised to find no teachers at the classrooms. Instead, in front of their rough tables and benches, up in the air, shimmered bright words spelled in red, blue, yellow or green. All they said was:

_We are busy. Continue your work from the last lesson. Next lesson we shall test whether you have really done so, so do not even _think_ of being lazy._

_The Heads_

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"Do we have an accord, then?" Lord Billius asked, even his own smug smile fading off his tired, drawn face.

"Just as long as you keep _your_ side of the deal, Godric growled, not in the mood for any more nonsense. He was tired, hungry and had to handle both the finalizing of the agreement and taking care of Ryan who was wide awake and very much twitchy. Rowena had gone to bed with a headache long since, Salazar was snoring lightly on the other side of the room and Helga was still sitting, but he doubted she heard anything Billius and he had said for the past hour or so. Deiniol, Billius' kin through their mothers' side, had excused himself over an hour ago to go and refresh himself before escorting Billius back to the village. "You got what you wanted, we got what _we_ wanted, end of story. Now take yourself and your smugness out of my home and get your rear end back to Stonehenge and to Gaius. If you two even _think_ of breaking this agreement, I will personally haunt you until your dying day."

Somewhat pale, Billius nodded and took his leave, going to search for Sir Deiniol.

Behind, Godric sighed and leaned back. He closed his eyes for a moment and then, quite certain that Billius was no longer near, allowed himself a weak, though satisfied grin. Though they had to promise to protect Billius' and Gaius' families from vengeance in case they won, and they had to agree that if the plan would fail they would be the ones to take all the punishment and promise free education for the next ten generations or so of both houses if they were to win, along with several other irritating details, he thought that it was well deserved. They would have their reinforcements.

He also had to admit that while Billius made him want to grit his teeth several times through the night, the man was a shrewd trader, and all that they had agreed upon, had been won by him fairly.

Now all they had to do was convince Ceridwen, Sir Rhys and the others that the agreement was not sheer folly.

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"Are you _mad_!"

All in all, Godric concluded, it could have gone much worse. Instead of questioning their sanity, his mother could have hexed them halfway to London.

"Did you not think, for one minute only, that others involved should be notified?" Ceridwen growled, pacing back and forth in an unknowing imitation of Billius' actions the night before. "We all risk our lives and much more in this endeavor, Godric! We could lose _everything_ - starting with our homes and finishing with our necks! This… this _agreement_ of yours with that foul ginger turncoat is the most foolish thing you could have done without consulting me or Rhys! Once a traitor, always a traitor, Godric! He will turn on you in a blink of an eye! He-"

At that point he stopped listening. He knew to begin with why the others hurriedly told him that he should talk to his mother alone before the big meeting they had planned for the evening. The woman could be temperamental when you prodded her in the right place, and for Ceridwen, the right place was where her authority was concerned.

For years after his father's death she had pretended to withdraw from the society circles she so loved before. She pretended to be a devoted housewife and a doting mother, but in truth it was only a façade meant to fool no one but herself. While she always loved him and had she had the opportunity, pampered him, she forever pushed him to do what _she_ believed in. She sent him to study with Sir Rhys for one purpose - for him to follow in the footsteps set by her and his father. And though he did not mind it, since he was attracted to the Lore of the Phoenix since childhood, this was just one more manifestation of Ceridwen's need to plot, plan, and more than anything, _participate_ is everything interesting that was going on.

He had known for years that she still kept in touch with many of the Knights. He knew that on the slightest pretext she would join on any action directed against Ambrosius. She was still very well connected, and almost nothing of the community's news got past her. Her ears were always open to the smallest change in public mood and opinion. She had been ready for a rebellion for a very long time.

And now, even though she herself said that Gaius and Billius were their best chance to infiltrate the Council and get more forces into the struggle, she was set against sharing the fight with them, and he knew why.

She felt left out.

The past few years had been like a fresh breath of wind to his mother. For the first time in years something happened that made her feel needed. _Alive_. The fact that they had failed to invite her to the discussions of the night before stung deeply. Suddenly she was out of the main circle, unneeded, unimportant. He supposed it was a sobering experience and that she did not like the headache of the day after. He could have warned her.

Now it was his duty to make amends, but also to make sure she understood the situation. He was afraid that this was a clear case of being cruel to be kind.

"Mother," he said, interrupting her in the middle of her rant, confronting her smoldering eyes. "I'm sorry that you feel that way, I really do. I understand your fears and your warning, and I would have truly accepted them if it was up to me. _However_," -and here his voice dropped dangerously- "desperate times dictate desperate measures, and this _is_ the most desperate time of all. We are about to face total annihilation of us and the people who have their faith in us. While for the past few years we have confided in all of you - especially in you - and shared the taking of decisions with you, you have to understand that we are the ones who lead this move. We started it and we are the ones Ambrosius hunts.

"We didn't notify the… eh, _others involved_ because Lord Billius was edgy and besides, it's none of your business. While what we did undoubtedly affects you, it is still our decision to make and our risk to take. So as far as I'm concerned you can pout and sulk, but know that the deed is done. We have signed the accord and we are going to fulfill our side of it. The rest depends on Gaius and Billius."

She became much frostier after that, and in a way, Godric knew he deserved it and much worse. You just did not talk to your mother that way. But he _did_ need to put her in her place, and he had always been blunt, so it should not have come as a surprise to her.

After allowing her to steam in silence for a while, he rather flippantly added "And in any case, Mother, if Billius even _thinks_ of breaking the deal, I do believe Salazar put a little something in the drink we gave him. If he betrays us, he will regret it terribly."

"But, of course, he doesn't know it," she said icily, "which provides you practically no help in case he gives you to Ambrosius on a silver platter."

"Oh, but you see, if I'm not very much mistaken, the thing he put in Billius' cup would most certainly act as soon as he commits the act of treachery, and so Marlowe Cane would immediately be aware of it. We have it covered, Mother, so please stop trying to look for flaws in a plan that you yourself had suggested possible only last year."

"Very well," she snarled. "But if anything goes wrong… don't come crawling back to me."

He nodded with a vague smile that probably irritated her more than anything he had to say, and she stiffly got up and left. The door almost closed when it came into a sudden stop.

"Oh, and Godric?" she said, her head the only thing showing beyond the door, her tone scathing. "The hat I bought you? It's the newest fashion, Godric, and as a model for so many people I think you should be wearing what is accepted these days - not the rags you're so fond of for some reason. I expect to see you wearing in the next official event - no excuses, Godric. Don't think I did not see it under your bed. I took it out and it's in your study. Don't let me find it there again."

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Ceridwen's and Godric's relationship remained cold and distant for a long time after the secret agreement the four had struck with Gaius via Billius. While she came often to spend time with her grandson, Rowena and Helga, she all but ignored her son. Godric knew he had hurt her, but he could not see any other way in which he could make her see that they _could_, in fact, make decisions without her, that she was not their supreme authority.

He should have apologized for being so harsh with her, he knew, but he stubbornly decided that he was not the only one responsible and that he would not apologize until _she_ would. That left them both in a fix, because none of them would be the first to apologize.

It was only a month or so after their quarrel that anything changed, and even that was because a new parcel had arrived from Marlowe Cane, saying that Gaius and Billius were beginning to actively oppose Ambrosius, attempting to block him with bureaucracy and pointless debates. Their actions were now buying them more than a little precious time. The recruitment to the Council's forces was now practically nonexistent, what with Gaius adamant on doing everything legally and thoroughly and Billius' clever maneuvers with the paperwork, which always left loopholes that Gaius cheerfully pointed out to Ambrosius, claiming that this way they could be blamed for doing crimes against their own people.

The way Godric saw it, the pair was having the time of their lives.

Only after Ceridwen had read Cane's report she came to Hogwarts to confront her son. Her expression was one of a person who had to chew a lemon, and he knew that she was there to apologize. It was then that he finally realized that he really did not _need_ her to apologize.

"Don't," he told her before she could even open her mouth. He did not meet her eyes. Instead he looked only at his son, whom he was bouncing on his knees. "Just… don't. You shouldn't be apologizing, because I said dreadful things to you only because we disagreed. As it turns out, I was right, but you could have been right as well, so just don't apologize. All right, Mother?"

She did not say a thing for a while. He could not hear her at all; she might as well not have been there. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. Her eyes met his and they both smiled. An unspoken agreement has passed between them in that short moment, and then Ceridwen reached her arms and plucked little Ryan from his hands.

"Who is Grandmother's little boy, hmmm?" she cooed at his son, a small smile on her lips. Ryan giggled and tried grasping a loose lock of his grandmother's hair. Her smile widened. "I do love you, Godric," she finally said, "but you can be an inconsiderate pig when you want to be." He started protesting at that, but she cut him short. "I think you got it all from me, love, so don't fret. Now - who needs a change of clothes?"

A certain smell spread in the room and Godric did not even bother to stifle his sigh. Babies were their parents' pride and joy, but they could be such a hassle at times… Another sigh crossed his lips and he got up, took his son from Ceridwen and then did what every father must do at least once in a while.

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_It's the newest fashion, Godric, and as a model for so many people I think you should be wearing what is accepted these days - not the rags you're so fond of for some reason. I expect to see you wearing it in the next official event - no excuses, Godric._

Mulling over his mother's words from a couple of months before, Godric's expression turned sour. He was sitting by himself in his study on the heavily padded chair, staring at the hat sitting on the heavy desk in front of him. Rowena, to his knowledge, was still deeply asleep, treasuring the day of no school and the fact that Godric had promised to be the one to look after Ryan that morning. It has been a long time since his mother left _it_ on the table, and it was not the first time he could be found staring at it in disgust.

The hat was rather simple, he had to admit. Just a plain brownish-red thing with a wide brim and a pointy bit over it. It was the pointy bit which aggravated him the most. What self-respecting warrior would go around with a cone on his head? This shape would not stop anything, unless it had fortifications within, and that would make it even more ridiculous to wear. He would look like a complete fool with this on his head.

There was only one thing to be done now that Ceridwen had dug it from under his bed and brushed off the dust and spider webs that had accumulated on it through the months that had passed since she had given it to him. He had to destroy it - that was the only way. But then, how would he hide what he had done from his mother? And more importantly, how should he do it? There are so many ways to destroy an offending article of wear…

"Godric? Are you in there?" Rowena's voice penetrated his thoughts sometime later, dragging him out of his deep contemplation on whether he should burn that dratted hat or simply rip it into shreds and then hide the remains away from his mother's prying eyes. Burning it had much more merit, he thought.

"Yes, love. What can I do for you on this fine day?"

Rowena entered the room, her face pale, her hair slightly wet and her dressing gown rather haphazardly worn. She did not look her best. In fact, she looked ill and worried. For a fleeting moment he wondered if something had happened to Ryan, since he had not heard him making a sound yet that morning, but then he rationalized that if that were the case, he would have been dead already.

"I thought you planned on sleeping late today?" he said cautiously.

"I did," she said roughly. "I was rather… unpleasantly woken, I'm afraid."

"Are you ill, love?" he decided it was safe to bring it up. "You don't look your best."

"No, I don't think I'm ill," she said, a guarded expression creeping into her hazel eyes. There was something she needed to say and was hesitant about. "In fact, I do believe we are about to have another child."

Unlike the first time round, _this_ time it did not take him long to understand what she was saying. He _did_, however, stare at her for a while before thinking of anything to say.

"Oh."

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_Godric and Helga walked into the private quarters of Ambrosius, following the straight-backed figure of Cane as he carried a breakfast tray into the main chamber. They looked around, trying to see who was present, for the tray had enough food for at least three people. On the low divan in front of a roaring fire Ambrosius was stretched luxuriously, as comfortable and lazy as a cat. On an uncomfortable wooden bench in front of him stiffly sat Lord Llyr of the Lower House and Lord Severn of the First House. They seemed to be deep in conversation._

_"-do not hold with such nonsense, Llyr," Ambrosius said scathingly. "Though Billius is an annoying man, I have no excuse to get him out of the Second House - and certainly not in order to give you his place."_

_"You did with Severn here!" Llyr protested. "If you hadn't got rid of Gryffindor, Severn would still have been a Second House Lord!"_

_"Yes, that's true," Ambrosius said with a satisfied smile," but Gryffindor and Slytherin were a special case. Billius has too wide a base in the Second House. While many do not side with Gaius, they certainly support Billius, and therein lies our problem and the reason for why I asked the two of you to come here today - oh, Cane, you're finally here. Put the food there and go clean the bathing chamber."_

_With a curt nod Cane left to the next room leaving the door half open._

_For a while there was silence as the three Council members ate. Godric decided to fill the silence, asking a question that had been bothering him for a while. "Helga? I don't mean to pry, but what is going on with you and Salazar? You seem to be quite… distant lately."_

_She sighed, staring at her skirts, her hands smoothing them needlessly. "I don't really know, to tell the truth. Rowena asked me the same thing the other day. I think he's afraid of commitment. We… haven't been very close in the past few months. I think it started right after your wedding, but it was only something superficial. It wasn't until Ryan was born that I started feeling strange around him."_

_"Ah. I thought it might be something of the kind," he said, wondering why Salazar refused to answer that question every time it came up. "May I ask what _you_ want?"_

_She smiled. "I want to have what you and Rowena have. I love Salazar dearly and I would love nothing better than to marry him and have his children. However," her smile faded, "if Salazar does not want that, I would be content to let him be and go my own way. I don't mind waiting a few more years, don't mistake me - because I do enjoy being with him just for the sake of sitting with him and talking - but I'm not getting any younger. I never thought I'd say that, but I don't. I know we magic people live longer and are fertile for a longer time, but I don't _want_ to wait until I am old and wrinkly. It all depends on Salazar now, and on what he decides he wants our relationship to be."_

_It was a tricky business, Godric realized. Trickier than he had expected. It could be fatal to the friendship Helga and Salazar had shared long before they ever fell in love, and worse, if their friendship would fall, the school might fail as well. Everything they worked for - for almost a decade, now - could be destroyed. He wanted to say something encouraging to Helga, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the three men, oblivious to their watchers, started talking again._

_"I'm sure you understand my situation, my lords. I am stuck between a hammer and an anvil. From one side I have the Hogwarts four with all their renegade groups of supporters and on the other I have the Billius-Gaius alliance. While Gaius by himself is not too dangerous, since not too many of the Second and Lower Houses are interested in supporting him, Billius is a different matter. He is a likeable fellow, and as most likeable fellows, he has many people who like to call themselves his friends. He has almost half the Council in his pocket that way. If he and Gaius decide to change sides on us, as it appears possible with all their arguments during the Council meetings, we might be in serious trouble, for Billius' friends may not be inclined to act against him."_

_"What do you want us to do, then?" Llyr said eagerly. Almost like a lapdog begging for leftovers, Godric thought wryly._

_"You, my lord Llyr, will attempt to subvert Billius' power amongst the members of the Lower House. I don't care in what way you choose to do so. Extortion, threats, blackmail of any sort is accepted. Do whatever you have to do, just don't let things be connected to you, and certainly not to me. I need his base of power undermined, Llyr, so do not disappoint me."_

_With a fervent expression on his face, Llyr nodded. He had always been one to dabble in the lowest of persuasive methods. Godric remembered his mother's long lectures about what happens to bad men like Llyr and how he should never descend to that level._

_"As for you Severn," Ambrosius continued, "it is time to set the drafting into motion. I want ten training camps constructed, and I want warriors-in-training there by the end of this month. Am I clear?"_

_"But, Lord Ambrosius-" Severn started, startled by his orders._

_"Yes?" Ambrosius managed to put layers upon layers of menace in that single word._

_Severn seemed to catch on that, and so his outraged tone softened into mild rebuke. "My lord, constructing these camps would take more time, and would take a lot of gold. Surely you don't expect ten camps in such a short time!"_

_Ambrosius' smile received a feral undertone. "Oh, yes, Severn. I expect all ten to be ready by the end of one month. Do that, or you are out of the First House. You know I can do it, Severn. I _put_ you there in the first place."_

_"I think that this is it," Godric whispered to Helga. "After that Mother told me he kicked Cane out and everything else was left unheard. But I think we got the gist of the matter, don't you?"_

_"Indeed," she replied heavily. "I at first thought it was strange of him to put Severn and Llyr as counterparts of the same conspiracy, but now I can see why. He made sure Severn will stay loyal to him, and by having Llyr there, he gave that miserable little worm a sliver of hope that one day he would replace Severn, if the man would be foolish enough to disobey Ambrosius."_

_"He's a sneaky one, our Chief Warlock," Godric said sourly. "He now has Severn and Llyr safely under his thumb. We'd better tell this to the others. Come on."_

Extracting themselves out of Cane's memory, the two immediately set to find Salazar and Rowena.

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Several hundred people were milling about in the half-constructed training camp. Some of them were new recruits and many others were the workers who built the place. It was a massive cluster of improvised tents with a few wooden structures in the middle, sprawling over a few acres. There was a fenced training arena and what appeared to be a mess hall. The wizards responsible to train the unwillingly drafted recruits had their own wooden cabins, and possibly warm fires in the cabins, while the so-called warriors had to crowd around small campfires, cold and shivering.

The four friends stood watching atop a hill overlooking the camp. They were certain no one could spot them, since they had used the disillusionment charm on themselves before leaving the safety of their castle.

Godric had attempted convincing Rowena, four months along, that she should remain in Hogwarts, but to no avail. The bloody stubborn woman was - most likely - standing beside him. He could just imagine her narrowing her eyes and mouthing profanities at what they could see.

This was the first location out of the four Cane managed to give them. There were six more that he did not find as yet, but it stopped worrying Godric from the moment he had climbed atop the hill and saw with his own eyes what Severn and those under him had done. If all ten training camps were like this, then things were bad. They would be heavily outnumbered in a case of direct confrontation. They would be crushed like worms.

"Can we do anything to impede the construction?" Salazar's voice came from somewhere to his right.

"Not unless you can control the weather or people's minds," Rowena said tersely from Godric's left.

"We can try and sabotage it with fire," Helga suggested. "But then, they are probably prepared for such a thing. They have hundreds of people here, Salazar. Whatever the four of us can do, they can undo in half the time it would take us set it up."

Helga was right, of course, Godric knew, and besides, they were here only as watchers, assessing the situation before brining it in front of the gathering that night. They would have to be extremely devious and resourceful in order to defeat this army, and as far as he was concerned, he was out of ideas.

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Time passed in the Castle of Hogwarts. While the Council was preparing for a war against them, the Hogwarts four continued their efforts to educate their students. They knew better than anyone else that their greatest chance to create a better future was through these children who looked up at them, whether in admiration or with mischief in their eyes. Even though they knew the day of the confrontation was nearing, they could not abandon their chief endeavor, their first and foremost duty. Their obligation was to the children they had taken under their wing.

These were hard days for them all. They had two major responsibilities, which meant they barely had time to rest. They worked hard on both fronts, attempting to make the best of everything. They tutored their students for long hours and then when night fell they went on working, making their plans for the impending confrontation. Whenever they were not doing these, they were busily making the defences around Hogwarts harder to break, more extensive, crueler to those who would come.

And in the midst of it all, though they were both starting to feel apprehensive about it, what with what was going on in the world around them, Godric and Rowena were preparing to welcome another soul into their family.

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"Headmaster! Headmaster! Come quickly!"

Godric raised his head and groaned. In the past hour he had been sweating and panting outside, teaching his students in the sunny spring morning.

"What is it?" he asked, trying to quench his annoyance. After weeks of foul weather he could finally let his students out to the grounds and have a bit of fun, and now this.

"It's Headmistress Ravneclaw, sir! We were having our Apparition lesson and she just collapsed!"

Without thinking, Godric dropped his sword to the ground and sprinted to where he knew his wife liked to teach Apparition, the flat ground near the lake where there was nothing in the way. He could see the crowd around the perimeter from a long way off and quickened his pace. When he reached there, the students parted to let him through.

Rowena was crouched on the ground, her arms hugging her body. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were closed.

Helga was already by her side, having been closer to the place than him.

"Godric!" the blond woman sounded relieved. "Thank Merlin you're here! Help me get her to the Castle!"

Helga was panicked, and Godric knew fully well why. If Rowena had troubles in the last months of her pregnancy with Ryan, it was nothing in comparison to this one. She was only eight months along, yet for months she had trouble walking, a lack of spell casting precision forced her to abandon all demonstrations in her lessons, and she lost more weight. The baby took a lot out of its mother.

"Where is Rosalind now? Is she anywhere near Hogwarts?" he asked Helga as he kneeled beside the two women. "Come now, love. Let us get you into the Castle," he then told Rowena and gently pried her arms apart, picking her up.

"She was near the last inn on London Way when she last contacted Rowena," said Helga. "That was yesterday."

"Then she will not be here until noon tomorrow. That's not good. Hurry up to our rooms, put the blankets aside, then send someone to bring the midwife from the village," Godric instructed. "And while you're at it, get someone to tell my mother that Ryan has to stay with her a night or two, all right? Tell her to stay at the village and that I will bring Ryan to her immediately."

Helga nodded and ran ahead of them.

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"That's it, Lord Gryffindor," the midwife said with a small smile at noon the next day. "You have a lovely little daughter. And against all chances, I do believe she will survive."

Heaving a great sigh of relief, and feeling Salazar's hand steadying him, Godric got up to his feet and came to look at his little girl. She was a diminutive creature, smaller than any live child he had seen after delivery. She was almost lost in the folds of the pale green woolen blanket that kept her warm, just a head and one tiny hand visible. She was sleeping soundly.

"How is… how is Rowena?" he asked in a trembling voice that sounded so unlike his own, looking up from the little girl in his arms. He was so afraid of the answer.

The midwife's face clouded. "Not well. Mistress Hufflepuff is with her at the moment. She's alive, but it was a close thing." It seemed like she was trying to soften the blow, but then again, there were things that women considered should stay among women alone.

"Is she conscious?" Salazar asked for him as he apparently noticed Godric could not get any sound out.

"Yes, but she's very sleepy."

"Can we go inside and see her, or would that endanger her?"

The midwife pursed her lips, her forehead creased in thought. Finally she came to a conclusion and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Lord Slytherin, but I cannot allow it. She needs rest, and besides-" here she gave them both half a smile "-women absolutely _hate_ being seen when they feel sick and miserable. It would be better if only mistress Hufflepuff would stay with her for the time being."

Godric had spent the next few hours striding back and forth across the main chamber, half listening to the sounds of women voices in the adjacent room. Though either the midwife or Helga came out every now and then with reports, he still could not calm down. He needed to see her.

Sometimes around sunset Helga came out and said that Rowena was much better, but that he is not allowed into the bedchamber anyway. It was only when Rosalind arrived that some over-taut string in him relaxed and he settled down. For some reason he felt much more secure now that the woman who knew Rowena better than anyone else was there.

She arrived late that night, having been delayed since she had to skirt around a training camp of Ambrosius' men. She was saddened that she had missed the birth, but more than delighted to hold her first granddaughter and sit by her daughter as she rested, helping to nurse her back to health. The next morning, however, she came into Godric's study with a somber expression on her face.

"Godric?" she said softly. "May I have a word with you?"

He put down his quill and summoned a chair from one corner of the room. "Of course. How is Rowena?"

"She's… not well."

He looked up at her sharply, dread bubbling in the pit of his stomach. What could possibly be wrong with her? The midwife, after stuffing her with medicine and ordering seven days of bed rest, had said that she was a strong woman and that she would be up on her feet in no time. Did she lie? Taking a deep, steadying breath, he asked "Why is that?"

Rosalind sat down. At first she did not look up. She seemed to be contemplating her words. Though worried, Godric still thought that Rowena would never stop to consider her thoughts. She was blunt, direct and honest - completely unlike her mother. She must have gotten it from Raven Lord. How Godric wished he could have known that man. Then again, had Raven Lord lived, he would have probably thought a much longer time before ever laying his hands on Rowena.

"Godric…" she finally said in a soft, careful voice, "I love you dearly. I could not have asked for a better man to marry my daughter, and therefore I feel reasonably safe telling you this." She looked up. "Rowena must never have another child."

"I - what?" he was dumbfounded. Whatever he had expected, this was not it.

"I cannot allow this. As much as I would love having many more grandchildren, the two of you - like Ryan and I in our time - must realize that there can be no others. I should have said this last time, but then I heard Rowena talking about hoping to have a girl next time, and how the two of you wanted a big family like neither of you had as children - and I simply couldn't. That had been a mistake. This time, however…

"Godric, as I told you after Ryan had been born, the women of my line were never built for giving birth. This child was a risk - the next would be a death sentence to both Rowena and the baby. There is nothing that can be done - magic or Muggle - to change that. I just wanted to tell you this before I tell Rowena, so you would be able to think about it and help her through. I doubt she will take it well. Do you understand?"

Stunned, Godric nodded. No more children. All their dreams in ashes. But if it meant losing Rowena, then there was no question about it. He watched, numb, as Rosalind walked out of his office, apparently to be by her daughter's side again.

He immediately knew that Rosalind had talked to Rowena when he entered the bedchamber on the first day Rowena was well enough to sit up, propped against a few down-filled pillows.

His wife's face was ashen and there were tear marks down her cheeks. She did not meet his eyes as he sat down on the chair usually filled by Rosalind.

"No more children," she said in a choked voice when she finally looked up at him. "It's not fair."

"I know, Rowena," he said heavily. "I know. But it has to be so, and we both know it."

She nodded, recomposing herself. He knew this was all a façade. A very good one, since Rowena had always been good at putting up a brave front, but a façade all the same. Inside, he thought, she must be grieving for all the children she would never have. At long last, after a long pause, she looked up again and gave him a wan smile.

"Does Ceridwen sound pretty much right to you?"

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"Ceridwen Rhiannon Rosalind Helga Ravenclaw Gryffindor. Oh dear. That is quite a mouthful," Helga said with a wry smile. "The girl will be cursing the two of you when she grows up, you know."

"The same offer stands, Helga, Salazar," Rowena said briskly, ignoring her friend's taunt. She was well again, and had accustomed herself to the idea that there will be no more children. While she still tired easily, and was more often sitting than not, she had determinedly set to take over her classes whenever the baby did not need attention and was resolute to start once again her routine. She shook away any offers of help.

"Offer?"

"Fine. Request, then. Will you or will you not consent to being Ceridwen's guardians?"

"Of course," Helga said warmly. "I could not imagine letting the two of you down."

"Consider me in," Salazar smiled.

Once they had their friends' agreement to play guardians for their second child as well, the road to the Naming Ceremony was clear. Unlike the Firstborn Ceremony, this was held for a very small circle of close friends and family. The second child was certainly less important than the first one and therefore there was no extensive protocol for the Naming Ceremony. Merely calling out the name of the newborn and naming her guardians. All present were welcome to give their blessings, but it was in a much more carefree way than when Ryan was born.

On the evening of the Ceremony, once both children were put to bed and Rowena and Helga had retired to the drawing room to have a quiet evening by themselves, Salazar and Godric sat in the main chamber with a small cask of wine given to Godric and Rowena to celebrate little Ceridwen's birth, quietly saluting the sleeping baby and talking about unimportant things. They were deep in a debate about the merits of wine over ale when a quiet knock came.

The person, who entered soon after the knock, not waiting to be invited, was Sir Rhys' son, Ilar. He looked both ecstatic and frightened. Both men straightened in their chairs, staring intently at the young man.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Lord Slytherin, Lord Gryffindor," he said in an excited voice. "But there was an urgent message from Cane in Stonehenge. Gaius and Billius have made their move. They have informed Ambrosius of their siding with you. We are now officially at war."

**A/N:** Well, this was it! You know that routine, my friends - liked it? Hated it? Absolutely adored it? Have comments to make, suggestions, questions? Please review and make my day.

**And to all my reviewers:**

**Gallon of Firewhiskey:** Nope. Sadly enough, we can't have Godric anymore. Taken, spoken for, and his wife would probably kick ass if she hears about it :P Life isn't fair ((shakes head)) Thank you!

**Spookles:** thank you so much. There's nothing that makes me so happy as someone who's been reading this for a while and decides to review - especially such a flattering, lovely review :) Well, if you want it to remain an uncertainty… then I won't tell you :D

**Innekeminneke:** I was having such a hard time deciding that she really must die :( It was such a struggle. I nearly erased the scene a couple of times before the plot won. I'm glad people will miss her - means they liked her. Hmm… I get The Lion King, but why Cinderella? ((is now curious)) Thank you very much - and I did have a lot of fun in England!

**Rockergurl13:** 1. Thank you! I did :D 2. ((sniffs)) I'm very sad about it, too, but unfortunately it had to happen… 3. You know, I'm writing this story in bits, not necessarily in order of chapters, and writing Salazar's leaving scene is so hard on me that I just add a sentence every now and then and then feel guilty about it. That's what happens when you get attached to your characters… 4. Yeah, well, he does have two quite hefty lineages to lug about… ;) 5. ((grins very, very broadly, which lasts all day)) thank you so much! That's such a nice thing to say! 6. Was this fast enough? Probably not, but I'll do better next time…

**FirstDaysOfSummer:** Well, since the story spans so many years, some things have to happen fast, but I'm glad you liked it. Hope you liked this one as well! Thanks!

**FizzingWhizbeez: **Hey! What about your updates! I am _waiting_! Lol. But I would really like you to update. Yep - you guessed quite right. 's one of the reasons anyway :) Heh, I've been given The Lion King, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. Seems that I am quite Disney inspired… Nope. No evil fairy - just evil Muggles that destroy everything… Had a wonderful time, and now I'm hoping to update in a much higher rate! Hold your fingers crossed! And thanks!

**Browneyedathena:** thank you very much for reviewing! Oh, well, it's a pity, but are you planning on writing anything else?

**Alcapacien:** thank you very much!

**.Aurorablu.:** With a lot of difficulty :( This was a soon as possible - I swear! Well, almost… thanks!

**shadow-n-the-dark:** mmm… chocolate chip cookies… Not that I need the extra padding after the past couple of weeks… I actually already written most of the ending, and while it's not a perfectly happy one, I do think it's not extremely sad. I definitely hope I'm right. I hope you will enjoy the rest of this story just as much as you enjoyed all of it up to now! And thank! For both the review and the cookies…

**JakKat:** As you can see, you're not the only one who said that ;) Oops… ((grins very, very broadly)) Right in one! Yep. I truly dislike the concept of the wizarding hats. They don't look extremely good in my imagination on anyone but McGonagall and Dumbledore, so I guess I entered some of my own prejudice to Godric's behaviour… :D Thank you!

**Wicked.Awesome:** You hate those Muggles? Yep, I hate them, too. Evil they are. I know! Isn't Salazar lovely? It's so hard, knowing that he's going to leave in such an angry manner… thank you!

**TimeWaitsForNoOne:** Heh, "A rollercoaster of emotions" sounds about right - great phrase! I didn't know if people would like that, but it seems like most did. Not _too_ soon! Still 11 more chapters to go! 'sides… you could always read it again ;) thank you very much!

**Black Chaos and Light Catastrophe:** Glad to be of service! ((bows)) thank you!

**Andromeda 'Andy' Black:** Yeah, I love Rowena as well. I love them all ((huggles all characters - except Ambrosius - he's been naughty)) thank you!

**404:** I suppose that for the time of Harry potter, they _are_ much of a legend, aren't they? ;) Thank you!

**SecretGinny13:** I so love to hear that! Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed it :)

**Nosilla:** I have! I have! Thanks!

**Well, this is it for today, people! Next chapter is already partly written (in bits), so I'm hoping that within two weeks it will be ready, especially since I'm away for a major part of next week… Oh, well.**

**I missed you all, and you all deserve many hugs for sticking with this story through thick and thin - so there!**

**Star of the North**


	21. A Time For Vengeance

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N: **Okay, okay, I know that this was not quick enough to those who repeatedly (and quite rightly) keep reminding me that I should update. Okay. I know it isn't, but considering all I had to do this week, I think I've done fairly well. So, without further ado:

**_Star of the North's Late Update Excuse(s):_** between studying intensely (thought I got rid of _that_ when I finished school a few months ago…), planning surprise birthday parties and being unwell twice (!), I'm very sorry for the lateness of this chapter… my sincerest apologies, friends! Won't happen again! (Yeah, _right_ - I can hear you all say just that). end of excuses

As is the custom of every fifth chapter in this story, this one's from another person's PoV. Can you guess who it is before you start reading? Hmmm? ((bounces about happily)) Okaaaaaaaaaay… too much sugar in the system may not have been such a good idea…

So anyway! Shorter chapter than usual, but I could not add more to it and **I should probably warn you** ahead that this chapter does a little rewind. It starts before the last chapter ends, somewhere in the region of just before Billius' arrival at Hogwarts - but I have good reason for that, so keep on reading please! Enjoy!

**_The Big P.S!_**

Okay, so… erm… it would seem like I overdid it again… But anyway, it's for a very good reason! I have realized, right after uploading the previous chapter, that _Tale of a Time Long Gone_ has celebrated its one year birthday on the 29th of August! I can't say that I ever imagined it would take me more than a year to write it, but there you go ((shrugs)) So that's that! Enjoy!

**Chapter 20 – A Time for Vengeance**

_"Not a lot is known of Lord Ambrosius' last days._

_"During those days there was a massive amassing of military forces, done under his command, but we are yet to discover why the final attack on the Founders of Hogwarts had been annulled. We certainly have enough proof to point at his arrival to the region of Hogwarts._

_"Why had the attack not taken place? This is the question we shall attempt to answer in this chapter…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Ambrosius of York liked to think of himself as a patient man. After all, no one could possibly stay sane and calm after conferring with tedious, argumentative old bats for so many years as he has without having a generous amount of patience. He had to admit to himself, however, that at times, even a mild mannered man such as himself is tested to the limits of his patience, and that therefore he could not be blamed for his wish to put his hands around Lord Gaius' thick neck and throttle him.

At that particular moment, the aforementioned member of the First House was droning on and on about the foolhardiness - in his opinion - of the Chief Warlock's ambitious plan to fell the four miscreants of the north.

Finally tired of the old man's single-minded babble, Ambroisus held up his hand to signal silence. "I think we have heard quite enough, Lord Gaius," he said. "Please sit down."

"With all due respect, my lord," Gaius said, affronted, "I think that what I have to say is of utmost-"

"-importance, yes, I know," Ambrosius cut him again, delighting in the confused expression on the old man's face. "But as it were, it is not of great importance to this meeting, which had been called especially to discuss what _should_ be done about the Hogwarts four, and _not_ whether it should or should not be done in the first place. If you are unable to participate in this conversation due to your dislike of doing any kind of physical activity, then by all means, you are excused."

His expression not changing, Ambrosius gloated inside at seeing the humiliation colouring Gaius' face red. How he loved showing the pompous old fool who was in charge! Instead, though, he just stared down Gaius until he settled back into his seat, glowering. Once that was taken care of, he felt as though the discussion could resume its original direction.

"Lords, the Hogwarts Four, whether Lord Gaius here wishes to acknowledge it or not, are a great problem to us. They undermine our authority, question our ability to govern our people. I said it once and I will say it again until you will all understand the importance of these words: they must be eliminated. We can_not_ allow this to go on. Once they set a precedent, many more would follow in their footsteps, questioning _us_. We cannot let this happen. What power over the common people would we have left if we allow this? None! This discussion is our utmost priority. _What are we going to do with the Hogwarts Four?_"

"Lord, we can't actually do anything before we know the extent of their forces, who supports them, what kind of resistance we should expect," Lord Keegan of the Second House said mildly. "Otherwise we would be like blind men plunging into a battle unarmed. I understand that you have already ordered Lord Severn to build training camps and that the order of the drafting has been issued, which are all reasonable precautions considering what we are up against, but we cannot continue this venture without further information."

"What are you saying, Lord Keegan?" Severn asked disdainfully. "That we should stop the training of our warriors?"

"Not at all," the Second House lord continued in the same mild voice which always managed to calm his most agitated opponent. "What I am saying is that before we send these warriors out to do war upon Hogwarts, we should first collect information about the forces opposing us. I propose that we should begin by checking the ground in our areas of control, each of us see who amongst our subordinates is inclined to support Hogwarts, and if needs be - eliminate them."

This suggestion, delivered in such a mild manner, sent a chill into every heart in the chamber, even Ambrosius', but while the others may have had qualms concerning the subject of eliminating their opponents, Ambrosius found this rather refreshing. He liked having things said to the point.

"Very well," he said. "This is the first thing we should do. Once we know the full extent, however…"

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When their meeting was over, the lords of the Second and Lower Houses dispersed and started making their way to their quarters, each readying themselves to send their men out to spy in their own realms and deduce who was loyal to the Council and whose interests lay with Hogwarts.

The First House lords stayed behind for a little while, conferring quietly among themselves, finally leaving only Ambrosius and Gaius in the echoing chamber. Seeing that Gaius did not seem inclined to leave, Ambrosius turned to face him.

"Well?" he said in a condescending tone.

"You are making the worst mistake of your life, Ambrosius," Gaius said harshly, staring into the Chief Warlock's eyes. "This… this _ambition_ of yours would bring about the Council's end. Your actions are foolish and you disregard a thousand rules in the process of achieving your goals. I will not stand aside watching you ruin our life's work in one, single, rash decision. I will not _let_ you bring about the end of the Wizarding World as we know it - no matter what means I have to take in order to stop you. I have warned you, Ambrosius - remember that."

The two men stood in tense silence, watching each other, one waiting for the other's reply, and the other simply simmering in his own anger. They were both of the oldest members of the Council, both of great rank in the magic community, both powerful in their own rights. Ambrosius knew Gaius could be a formidable enemy, but he also knew that the old man was set and comfortable in his ways, and therefore may argue with him in meetings, but would never turn against him. At length, he spoke.

"I appreciate hearing your opinion, Gaius, and when the information reports arrive, it would have a mighty weight in our discussions. But for the time being, stop trying to undermine me - or you and Billius would be the ones to destroy the Council for good. Now get out of my sight. I am tired of seeing you here."

With a stiff bow, Gaius strode off.

This was the last time he had seen Gaius until the time, several months later, when an all-members meeting was called. The men sent to gather information had all returned, and it was time for review the damage that may be done.

"Marius of Cornwall and his people have declared their allegiance to the Hogwarts Four," Lord Adrian said with a grave look in his eyes, the first to actually dare speaking, "as have Ariadne of the Woods and her female thugs."

"Arvel, Aneirin and Gethin of Wales have done so just last night after a consultation with all the heads of the Welsh magic communities. While Geraint, Hopcyn, Llew, Pedr and Urien still support us, the other twelve houses have agreed, in the basic level, to an alliance with Hogwarts," added Lord Keegan, frowning. Apparently, he had not expected the numbers to be so great.

"I checked about the rebel bands, my lord," said Lord Larkin of the Lower House. "Most of them have already sent representatives to Hogwarts. My spies did not come up with any details, but it would seem as though most of them would join with Hogwarts were they to openly go against us."

With each report made by the lords of the Second and Lower Houses, Ambrosius' patience grew shorter and shorter. He needed to hear some good news - something to break the continued fall of horrible information, but none of the lords seemed able to supply those good news.

What was most frustrating was that incredibly smug expression on Lord Billius' face, quite clearly stating '_I told you so_'. There was something unbelievably consternating in someone on his own side looking so happy at your direst of moments. Billius was leaning back comfortably in his seat, his arms and legs crossed in the very expression of satisfaction, occasionally exchanging an amused glance with Gaius who had been suspiciously quiet during the entire report.

Apparently he was not the only one to feel that Billius was too happy to be allowed, for a very sour-faced Lord Llyr said "I have something to contribute to this discussion, my lord."

"You may speak," Ambrosius said, liking the glint in the other man's eyes.

"While the people in my own realm seem quite content to stay on the side of the Council, one of my spies has come up with a fascinating piece of information which pertains to one of our number. Would Lord Billius like to enlighten us as to why he did not inform the Council of the doings of a certain relative of his?"

Though he did not change his stance, Billius seemed to be more alert, less comfortable in his secure amusement. He did not, however, respond to the allegation. Ambrosius could almost _smell_ his uneasiness and impatiently waved for Llyr to continue.

The Lower House lord seemed almost delighted in what he was about to reveal. It seemed that Ambrosius' order from so many weeks ago had not gone unnoticed. Llyr had managed digging out filth on the Lord Billius. Resting his hands on his lap, Ambrosius settled down to listen.

"I wonder how it is that our esteemed Lord Billius has forgotten to tell us of his kinship to one, Sir Deiniol, a former Knight of the Phoenix?"

"I failed to notify you on my kinship, since it is not the business of the Council to keep a record of all my kin," Billius said in a calm voice, but Ambrosius could see his body tense. "Being of Welsh origin it is hardly questionable. I have many kin, and Deiniol happens to be one of them. What has this got to do with our discussion?"

"Then you do not deny your kinship to this Knight of the Phoenix?" Llyr said, a triumphant spark in his eyes.

"Most certainly not," Billius said indifferently. "I would insult both myself and our ancestors were I to do so, and would be considered an outcast. Deiniol is my kin by blood and I cannot say otherwise. I have not seen him in some years now - not since the last of the Knights of the Phoenix stopped trying to do their obsolete duty. Again, I ask, what has Deiniol and my kinship to him to do with anything discussed here?"

"Then would you mind explaining your loyalty to someone who is proven without doubt to be a supporter of the Hogwarts Four and one of their inner circle?"

Ambrosius leaned in with interest, wanting to see how Billius would try to weasel his way out of Llyr's accusation. He noticed others doing the same thing, breathlessly waiting for Billius' reply.

Sadly enough, the Second House lord did not seem too impressed. "Whether he is my kin or not, I have no control over him. Deiniol is his own man, and as I have said, I have not seen him in a long while. I do not know how he fared since the Knights of the Phoenix went their separate ways, and I do not see how I can be held accountable to whatever he had chosen to do with himself. Your petty accusations mean nothing to me, Llyr, so why don't you take your seat and for the time being quench your ambitions to become one of the Second House."

With this dry-tones answer, Billius had successfully managed to fend off any more questions, but Ambrosius was not happy. He had seen what none of the others had - that small glance between Billius and Gaius as Llyr settled bitterly back in his seat as he had been told, and it had told him that Billius had known all along of Sir Deiniol's involvement with the Hogwarts Four. It was disconcerting, and something needed to be done, more inquiries to be made.

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_"Gregory had been found, my lord," said Cane with dread in his eyes and a tremble in his voice._

_"Oh?" Ambrosius said, not looking up from the report in his hands. He enjoyed making Cane jittery, and Marcus Gregory's disappearance did not bother him much. The man was his best killer, and he had utmost trust in his abilities to eliminate the troublesome four. If he needed to disappear in order to get them, then Ambrosius was not worried._

_"In a stable at a seedy tavern north of here," Cane finished._

_Ambrosius frowned and finally looked up to scrutinize the manservant with narrowed eyes. "What was he doing in that stable exactly? Please tell me he was not messing with one of the prisoners I asked him to bring in. I _did_ tell him I needed them all intact - at least for the time being."_

_"He…" Cane faltered. "He was stunned. Tied and gagged, and… well, it isn't pleasant, my lord."_

_"WHAT!"_

_"The owner of the tavern found him stuffed in the corner. He said he heard horses coming late at night; they stopped for a while and then went on. When he went to feed his horse the next morning - he found Gregory there. Said he smelled like manure."_

_"Did you get him to talk?"_

_"We're bringing him over right now. You will be able to question him yourself. He was still unconscious last time I received the report."_

_Minutes later, two bulky menservants entered Ambrosius' chambers, carrying between them a lump that was only vaguely recognized as human, much less as Marcus Gregory, the Knight Monster. It looked as though someone had gone through a whole tome of hexes, jinxes and curses, maybe even two, to create this mess that barely resembled the proud man Gregory once was._

_A collection of boils, extra limbs, fungi growing in objectionable places and many other repulsive, questionable marks covered the man. He seemed to be cut in several places, bruised and otherwise maimed. There was no way telling what kind of internal injuries have been added to the external mess, but the Chief Warlock could imagine. He had a very active imagination where it concerned bodily harm. Someone did a very thorough job on his best killer._

_"He just woke up, my lord," one of the menservants rumbled as they put the man down on the floor where he collapsed into a hip, trembling lightly._

_"Sir Gregory?" Ambrosius said after getting up, prodding the figure on the ground with the toe of his slipper._

_What he presumed to be a face looked up at him, little cracks opening in the puffed skin._

_"Sir Gregory, where are my prisoners?" he hissed, leaning close enough to smell the rank sweat and stink of human wastes covering the man's body and clothes. "Where are Gryffindor and Slytherin? Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff? _Where are they?

_The lump on the ground gave out a small whimper and the cracks tightly shut themselves, the man curling into a ball as well as he could… _

Ambrosius gritted his teeth, the memory still the most sour of recent years. Next to him a goblet of wine, delicately made of the finest glass, blew into shreds. Gregory never did come back to himself. Whatever it was those pests of the north did to him, it made him a paranoid and a coward. He kept to his house, living out of the yearly allowance Ambrosius had promised him before he set out on his last mission.

Their presence haunted him. He could not pass a day without hearing about another loyal supporter going down, eliminated by _their_ supporters, or another group of magic families announcing openly their full support of Hogwarts. And the rumours…

Mistress Ravenclaw could pluck thoughts out of a man's head miles off.

Lord Slytherin could make men disappear in a flash of light, never to be seen again.

Mistress Hufflepuff could fell solidly built houses on the heads of men who had angered her.

Lord Gryffindor could chop a man in half without even swinging his sword.

Even more fantastic rumours traveled around, each growing bigger and crazier with each telling from mouth to ear. Rumours were normally so, and usually died out after a short while, but these only seemed to grow wilder and wilder.

They had the powers of Gods and Deities, some said, their eyes bright with wonder. Others said they were invincible, or invisible, looking about them and speaking in a hushed voice. They could fly without a broom, according to some, and those same people also claimed that they could be in two places at once, which was preposterous, of course, but tell that to country idiots… Even magic could not make that possible.

Ambrosius' alliance was falling to pieces all around him, its shards slipping through his fingers, unchecked. In the Council, the section that quietly supported Lords Gaius and Billius in their opposing to his plans grew stronger with each passing day. None of them would openly say anything like those two, but the shifty glances that did not quite meet his eyes said enough. They thought he was losing his grip. He had to do something and do it soon, or he _would_ lose his grip on the Council, and with that, his grip on the Wizarding World.

"My Lord?" his personal manservant's voice interrupted his dark musings.

"What is it, Edwin?" Ambrosius asked tiredly, his eyes trained on the map spread on the table in front of him, showing the estimated locations of all rebel bands and the various Hogwarts connections. Each day added more marks on that too small piece of parchment.

"I have a letter here from Lord Gaius' personal manservant for you. He said his master says it is urgent and should be delivered to you posthaste," Edwin replied, holding out a carefully folded parchment with Gaius' horned owl crest on it. "I came as soon as I got it."

"Very well. Let's see what that leprous imbecile wants _this_ time. I am tired of him and his proposals…"

His manservant handed him the letter with a reverent bow and retreated a few steps back, taking his customary place by the door.

Ambrosius slit the seal open with the tip of his wand and started reading disinterestedly. However, as he took in what the words within spelled, his face grew redder and blotchier, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"WHAT!"

Later it would be said that when Lord Ambrosius of York had heard of Lords Gaius and Billius' defection to the side of the Hogwarts band his cry of fury could have been heard all the way to London. His tantrum of rage would become famous in the high society, a lesson to be learned.

A few minutes later found Edwin cowering in fear as Ambrosius paced back and forth in his extravagant sitting room, the crumpled parchment of Lord Gaius' succinct message sizzling merrily into nothing in the roaring fire. There was no telling what was more dangerously fiery - the man or the flames.

"How dare he? How _dare_ he? Turn against me? I, who had gotten rid of those meddlesome Slytherin and Gryffindor lines? I, who have brought the Council more success than all the Chief Warlocks before me? He should be groveling at my feet! And Billius! That scabby weasel! I should have known he was a no-good lout the moment I learned of his relative's involvement with those four nuisances!"

Another roar of rage escaped the Chief Warlock's throat, making Edwin jump yet again.

How could this have happened? At the worst of times, at that! He was already losing supporters in the Council rapidly, and now that those renegade lords had done their deed, who was to say what would be left of that meager support? He needed to act quickly, and the worst thing about it was that he no longer had time to think. His actions needed to be decisive and they needed to be complete at that very moment.

Chief Warlock Ambrosius made his decision. Turning his anger-contorted face to his cringing manservant, he bellowed.

"Summon the lords of the Council! Tell them that those who would not come shall suffer the consequences!"

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As soon as Ambrosius thundered into the Chamber he was surrounded by worried lords who all shot questions at him, made too anxious by the rumours going around to take consideration of his foul mood.

"Is it true that Hogwarts has declared war?"

"Where is Billius? He hasn't been seen in two days!"

"What shall we do?"

"Are Gryffindor and Slytherin invading?"

"Why isn't Lord Gaius here?"

"Will we be in danger?"

"Where is Billius?"

"Should we call for truce?"

"What is going on?"

"Why the urgent summons, my lord?"

"What happened to Billius?"

"Silence!" he roared finally, too angry and too agitated to show any patience or manners. "Sit _down_ and be _silent_! If not, I shall gag you all!"

Alarmed, the lords of the Council settled in their places. Quietly, their eyes wide open, all wondering why they were missing two of their number, they watched as Ambrosius paced back and forth in front of them, his face a thunderstorm, his eyes practically shooting lightning.

"Not an hour ago I had gotten a letter from Gaius. A _letter_. The filthy coward had not had enough courage to face me while he informed me of his treachery. Yes, my lords of the Council - _treachery_. It is my unhappy duty to tell you all that as of this evening two of our number have left us for good. They are as good as dead to us now, and if any of you is to see them, you are charged with the sacred duty of eradicating them and all those in their company. Gaius and Billius have _betrayed _us. They have decided to side with the Hogwarts filth and therefore their fate is to be the same as those of the four, as shall be that of any of you who decide on following their dastardly deed.

"I shall wreak vengeance upon you, and it shall be worse than any you could have imagined. You shall be tainted with the same brush as that of Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. You shall lose everything, starting with your land and families and finishing with your lives. Do not test me."

The lords of the Council all stared at their leader with horror written on their faces. None of them had ever thought Ambrosius' wrath would turn on them, and seeing what would be Gaius and Billius' fate, they did not want to follow.

At long last, Ambrosius stopped his pacing and stood at the exact center of the Chamber, his smoldering eyes trained on them all. "Lords, this morning was the point of no return. You can thank Gaius for that. This is an act of war, and we shall respond to it as we shall respond to every threat. He and his friend Billius have forced my hand. Our plans are to be set into action. There is no more time to waste."

The lords exchanged glances, worried, anxious glances. They all thought the same. The timing was wrong; they were not even near to being prepared for that final step. The warrior recruits could barely hold a straight line, not to speak of fending off an attack of some of the most vicious warriors out there. None of them dared open his mouth and protest. None, that is, but Lord Severn, who appeared to be the most outraged of them all, and for good reason. If the warriors in training would fail to win Ambrosius his ambitions, he, as the commander of that operation, would be the one to be punished.

"Lord Ambrosius, surely you do not mean to go openly against them _now_ of all times?" Severn protested from his seat. "It is the dead of winter and we did not yet have time to study the lay of the land and what we might encounter on our way there. Our plans are not yet ready; our people not well trained enough. In my opinion this is a foolhardy decision and I think you should reconsider it."

The entire Council, including Severn, realized that this was the wrong thing to say at that exact time just as soon as the words had left the First House lord's mouth. Ambrosius' face darkened and turned a murky shade of red in an alarmingly short time, his eyes narrowing and his mouth thinning so much that his lips were almost not to be seen.

"I don't _care_ what you think, Severn!" he roared at the surprised lord. "The next one to open his mouth would spend an eternity wondering where he did wrong! I'll have _silence_! I'll have _obedience_! Do you understand me? Do you follow my meaning _now_? I will have them dead and buried, their names wiped off history! No one will ever know such people had ever existed. Their legacy shall be destroyed - their homes put to the torch and their lines broken! Should any of them beg for mercy, they shall be cut down even more cruelly than the others! We shall give no mercy! They shall be killed - all of them! Men, women, children - all of them! All those who would oppose me shall die!

"In ten days," he snarled at the cowering Lords of the Council, "we are setting out for war."

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"Ah, Edwin!" Ambrosius called delightedly as his manservant entered the room on the dawn of the preordained day. The Chief Warlock was contemplating which of his robes he should wear for the momentous occasion that would begin in only a few hours. He had been up ever since three hours past midnight, trying to plan his appearance ahead, wishing to look at his most impressive for that day.

"Already awake, my lord?" Edwin said in mild surprise. "I do believe you have asked to be woken only at dawn?"

"Ah, I have changed my mind," Ambrosius replied with a small smirk. "Edwin, my good man, I have a job for you. I need you to pack clothes for me and all my potions and magic tomes, as well. Also, I would need a good horse with the proper attire to carry a man of my status and for you to make sure that my tent would be packed and put atop the rest of the gear. Do you understand?"

"My lord! You cannot possibly mean to go there yourself!" Edwin cried out uncharacteristically, his thin face the very mask of horror. "The community needs you! You can_not_ put yourself at such risk!"

"Oh, my dear Edwin," Ambrosius smiled mirthlessly, putting on his most elaborate of robes and smoothing its front almost absent-mindedly. "Your care for me is commendable, but this one thing I cannot leave to my underlings to do. You have seen through the past few years how they have failed me again and again. This shall not recur here. I will crush the Hogwarts four, and I will be there to witness their grimy end, no matter what. This has gone too long, Edwin, and I intend to be there at the finish. Now go and see to that that they prepare my horse properly and then get to packing. I have utmost confidence in your abilities, and I expect you to be ready yourself in two hours. You are coming with me."

If Edwin did not like the sound of this plan, he did not show it. His face resumed their practiced, mild indifference. "Yes, my lord," his manservant said with a curt bow and retreated out of the room, leaving Ambrosius to primp himself alone in his chamber. This would be a great day to Lord Ambrosius. This day was the first real step in his plan to wipe out the Hogwarts four, and by Merlin, he was going to destroy everything associated with that crowd.

Two hours past dawn, the Chief Warlock of the Council stepped out of the formal entrance to the Stonehenge, his richly gold-stitched black robe easily the most wondrous garment there, his deep red cloak billowing in the wild wind, his hair trimmed and his expression cold. He surveyed the forces massed before him and a thin smile graced his lips. This had to be the greatest power ever amassed in the history of the Wizarding World.

Hundreds if not thousands of people, all geared up for war stood in front of him in straight lines. True, every now and then the lines were crooked and quite a few of his wonderful warriors belched, scratched their behinds or yawned in his face, but either way, they were a formidable force, armed and ready, prepared in both Muggle warfare and magic. Hogwarts and its supporters had no chance. They would be crushed.

"My people!" he cried out, his voice magnified so they could all hear. "This day shall appear in the pages of history as the day that marked the downfall of the people who had marred the perfect harmony of the magic community of the British Isles. You will all be part of that downfall! Your names recorded in that great book of heroes, ready to sacrifice their all on the altar of all that is good. Today, we march to eradicate their presumptions! Today, we march to correct that which is wrong! Today, we make men out of boys! Today, my friends, we march out for war!"

There were half-hearted cries of praise coming from his army, most coming from the members of the Chamber Guard implanted in the rows. Ambrosius ignored this lack of enthusiasm, knowing that those who did not call out would do as he commanded anyway, knowing the repercussions of refusing to follow orders. He had no doubt anymore, though he would never admit to ever having any. He would win. He _would_ prevail.

They marched a forced march for days. The commanders of the army, under Ambrosius' orders, did not allow more rest than absolutely necessary. Had this been a Muggle army, many would have been lost to exhaustion and broken limbs. As this was not so, however, they were merely sent to the healers and then mercilessly brought back to their war bands. Only few were lost.

And then, finally, one evening, almost without warning, they were there. That night Ambrosius had allowed the opening of many wine kegs and ale barrels. Tomorrow, they would go and fight. Tomorrow, his victory would come.

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The Castle of Hogwarts loomed in the hazy distance, perched like an overgrown vulture at the top of a cliff overlooking the steely lake. Dawn was slowly coming and all Ambrosius' feverish mind could come up with was that Hogwarts would not wake up to see another day. This was the day where all would come to an end, with Ambrosius as victor.

When sun dawned again, he swore, Hogwarts would be in ruins.

**A/N:** Ta-dah! End of chapter 20, which means: 10 more chapters to go! Two thirds of the story are over and done with… And so we discover what had happened to Marcus Gregory after all this time. The exact hexes and curses used on him - I leave to your imagination. Hope you have all enjoyed this chapter!

Please review and tell me what you think! Everything constructive or simply nice is welcomed, and really makes my day!

**And now, it is time for… ((drumroll)) my reviewers!**

**404:** Yep! War it is!

**Shadow-n-the-dark:** I rather liked the "Harry is Gryffindor's heir" theory, but JKR stamped all over it in her latest interview to TLC :P But, no, I refuse to have any mix of times in my stories. I have nothing against Time Travel fics, but I don't think I'll ever write one myself. Too weird for me to write… so no worries! As I said, not too sad, but not too happy - JKR didn't leave me with much choice on that… have a nice thanksgiving stuffing - and thanks!

**Rockergurl13:** Oh, the Hat, the Hat… ((laughs)) I'm glad you liked that scene… I rather liked it myself! Anyhoo, thanks for that!

**FizzingWhizbeez:** Oh, yeah, I remember those days I was supposed to study math… like right now for my uni entrance exams ((looks around shiftily)) I find writing this much more interesting than trying to dredge out the remains of things I stopped studying almost ten months ago :P stupid math. Hope math is going well for you! You know, I once swore to myself that I wouldn't be one of those writers who leave their readers hanging on a cliffhanger for weeks between updates, but it seems like I have to eat my own words… I never meant it to happen! I swear:D And my last order of the day - update! Thank you! **Also, if I'm not very much mistaken, isn't it your birthday again on the 12th? If I'm right - then a very Happy Birthday to you, and you may consider this my gift for you!**

**Innekeminneke:** Ah, okay, now I got it:) Hope this is enough to make your addiction last! Active - hah! ((laughs)) Rowena and Godric have no idea what's in for them! They are going to be thankful for having just the two… thank you very much! Addict away!

**TimeWaitsForNoOne:** The war it is! Oh, and just so you know? You got it right :) That is _the_ Hat. Thanks!

**BrownEyedAthena:** Oh, well, though it is a pity, I can completely sympathize. There were times last year when I thought I'd just quit, what with the load of word I had. I hope you keep reading and reviewing, and thanks for this review as well!

**Lilyjamesandharrypotter:** Hey, there! Thanks a lot! This story is currently the one I'm working on, and the Marauders one is on sort of a hiatus, but I'm thinking of rewriting it now, or just continuing it. Your input is much appreciated!

**Nosilla:** I _do_ have only ten more chapters to go… so little time - so much to do! ;) Thanks!

**FirstDaysOfSummer:** Sorry for the actual delay in my promise - real life can be such an annoyance at times… :P Anyhoo, I actually meant to go up to Scotland, but it didn't turn out in the end, so I went around south and central England. In a few years I have every intention of completing my Britain tour, and doing Ireland as well, but that'll take a while yet… heh, you wouldn't get away from the cold even in summer. It can be one day 30 degrees Celsius and then the next bloody cold. It was that way when I last was there, three years ago. But it is, a lovely country, so if you can ever get there - do so! Thank you for everything!

**Black Chaos and Light Catastrophe:** ((blushes)) thank you so much! I really appreciate it:)

**That's all for now, people! As usual, I will do my best to bring the next chapter in a week or two. I hope that this time I can keep with my planned schedule…**

**Love you all!**

**Star of the North**


	22. Protect That Which You Hold Dear

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Heh, well, umm… err… well, I didn't really mean to have two Godric chapters in such close proximity to each other, but that's the way it happened. This is what happens when you write bits of a chapter before you have an actual idea of the order the chapters are going to be… oops. I hope none of you feel sick of reading from Godric's PoV. It's the best PoV to right this chapter from, anyway, but if it makes you feel any better, the next (and last) Godric chapter is a _long_ way away.

Wheeeeeeeeeee! ((squeals)) did any of you notice the fact that the ff added the Founders to their list of characters? I've been waiting for that to happen for _ages_. Isn't that wonderful? So now I have changed the settings of this story so they can be found under Rowena R. and Godric G. I know it's a bit of a letdown to those who would rather see Helga or Salazar, but that's what happens when there are only two characters available and this is the main ship…

**Warning:** There's a little bit of violence and blood in this chapter. Nothing too graphic, but if you're squeamish… just know that it's there.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 21 – Protect That Which You Hold Dear**

_"In the records of times past, there was never any mention of an attack taking place on Hogwarts grounds. This is, presumably, due to the immensely complex defences built around it from the day it was built, constantly being remodeled and improved throughout the ages._

_"The question we, as modern scholars, must ask is: has there never been an _attempt_ to breach those massive defences?_

_"Records of the time of the beginning of Hogwarts are very much muddled and unclear. The story of the Founders as we know it has been assembled after years of hard work, picking through what little material was left from the tenth century's records and embroidering it into the more or less complete story of their lives. Therefore we are not sure of whether or not there was an attempt of breaking into Hogwarts in their time. We know for a fact that the Chief Warlock, Ambrosius of York, had wanted the four wiped out, but did he actually manage even one attempt? That is yet to be revealed…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

The four friends stood at the Entrance Hall, quietly conversing. Ryan was toddling on the floor at a safe distance from his parents, and Ceri was sitting right next to Rowena's feet, babbling happily to herself, waving a piece of cloth about. The front doors were flung wide open, and the entire young population of the Castle was happily enjoying the once-again fine weather, playing out on the grounds. This was the topic of their discussion. What should they do with the children when Ambrosius would arrive? It was too late to send them back to their homes. The army on the way would jeopardize them, for Ambrosius might kill them to teach the four a twisted lesson of sorts. They did not want them to stay at the Castle, for if they would lose, Ambrosius would surely slaughter the lot of them. The village, they surmised, was their only real choice.

"We should send them tonight," Helga said, her expression worried. The children were always her first priority in every discussion. "We cannot delay much longer. Ambrosius is almost here."

"Helga's right, of course," Salazar agreed, smiling at her reassuringly. "Two of us should accompany them to the village tonight and distribute them between the willing families. Someone should go ahead and call for a village meeting at the tavern, so we can have it done efficiently and quickly. The Castle should be emptied tonight."

"I will go before the children," Godric volunteered. "I need to have a word with my mother anyway, so it would take care of two issues at once."

"I will take them to the village, then," Salazar said immediately after him, only a fraction of a second before Rowena demanded to know what exactly he was going to discuss with his mother.

Godric did not meet his wife's eyes at first. He did not want to hurt her, but he knew that she still did not realize what must be done. While she would willingly part with the students in order to protect them, her first instinct was to keep her own children as near her as possible, to protect them herself. He himself felt the same desire, but he knew that there was no other choice. "I want her to take care of Ryan and Ceri for us, while we are fighting Ambrosius."

Rowena's lips pursed and he could see an argument coming. However, at that precise moment, they all saw a figure racing up the front steps and towards them. The man, who slid into a huffing halt in front of them, barely missing hitting them with full force after veering off-course to avoid stumbling over Ryan, was Ilar, who had been acting delivery boy between Castle and Village for the past few weeks.

"Ilar?" Rowena asked, seemingly forgetting her intended reply to Godric's idea. "What is it?"

"He's coming," he said, breathless with the effort of running all the way from the village. "Ambrosius is coming."

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Ignoring Rowena's renewed protests, that had started almost as soon as she had processed the news, Godric left for the village immediately after Ilar's dramatic entry, telling Salazar he would meet him back at Hogwarts at sundown, and asked that the children would be ready to depart at that time. They all knew the cover of dark was best for them if Ambrosius had sent scouts ahead. If the scouts would notice a large group of children meandering through the distance that separated Hogwarts from the Loch, it was quite possible that whatever attack the Chief Warlock had planned would be canceled and moved to that precise moment. They could not risk their students being harmed.

Taking his horse, who in recent years saw less and less action, old as he was, Godric arrived at the village quickly. As he dismounted, he gave Griffith a sympathetic rub, sadly knowing that it was probably time to find himself a new horse - not that he really needed one these days. Tethering the horse outside Sir Rhys' house, he went to find his mother.

It was not hard to guess where he would find her. As usual, Ceridwen Gryffindor was at the very center of what was happening. The spacious kitchen of Sir Rhys' house was packed full of concerned villagers, pacing Knights and groups of messengers who had arrived from various potential allies, and at the very center of the room, was his mother, talking loudly over the din, assuring everyone that the Hogwarts Four would soon enough send word.

Due to the noise and the mass of people, it was unsurprising that no one had noticed Godric come in. It was only when he surreptitiously tapped his mother's shoulder that his presence was noted.

"Godric!" she called in relief, causing the whole room to grow silent, everyone present breathlessly awaiting to hear whatever he had to say. "So good of you to come! Where are the others?"

"Not now, Mother," he said softly. "I need to speak with you alone before I address anyone else. Where can we speak in private?"

Frowning at his secrecy, Ceridwen led him out of the kitchen and to her own quarters. The rooms his mother lived in were so obviously hers that he almost laughed nostalgically. Nothing had changed in all the years that had passed since their very first home. They were still tidy to a fault, almost compulsively so. The furniture was placed exactly as it had been in all her previous dwellings and all her personal artefacts were placed with such precision that he felt the impulse to move them just a bit to see if she would put it back at the same angle as before.

Motioning him to take one of the straight-backed chairs next to the small fireplace, she took the other and sat primly, waiting for whatever he had to say. Knowing his mother all-too-well, he cut straight to the point.

"We need you to continue the resistance in case we fail," he said shortly, not trying to hide anything. "That would require you to stay here and not join in the fighting."

"Not a chance," she said calmly.

"It's not negotiable, Mother. You are the only possible choice. You are the only one to whom everyone would listen. The Knights respect you for being Lady _Gryffindor_, the nobles respect you for being _Lady_ Gryffindor, the rebel bands respect you for your subversive acts against Ambrosius and the Council throughout the years and anyone else _will_ take orders from you because all the aforementioned groups would. There is no one else who can shoulder the burden if you are gone at the same time as us. We don't know if we're going to survive this, and while we hope to end it quickly and cleanly with Ambrosius being the only one hurt, the likelihood of that happening is almost nonexistent. You have to be here so that our mission will not fail."

"I have to be out there with _you_. You _need_ me, Godric. I am one of the most powerful witches of my generation. You cannot just discard me like this," she said calmly, though her eyes narrowed.

"I am not discarding you, Mother, and neither do the others. We are trying to _preserve_ you. To leave one who is capable of leading on if we fall. We will not allow you to go with us. We will deal with Ambrosius on our own. This time you have to stay at the sidelines unless something catastrophic happens and Ambrosius will continue to the Loch from Hogwarts."

"You don't know what you're saying, Godric! You put yourselves at too much risk. I _have_ to be there!"

"I told you, I'm not here to negotiate. You are staying at the back."

"I'm not going to sit in the village while Ambrosius attacks you!" she cried, her normally composed face a livid, contorted mask. She completely ignored his rational explanations for she could not counter them, retreating into emotional responses.

"Mother, we need someone to continue the fight if we fail," he said again, his tone more pleading that he had intended, "and the village is currently the only safe place in miles. Also, we need you to protect Ryan and little Ceri."

"Let Dahlia do it!"

"She's not nearly powerful enough and you know it," he said coolly, unimpressed. "As I have said, aside of your impressive magical powers, you are an upstanding member of the community, respected by all. If Ambrosius tries attacking a woman such as you and two babes not yet two years old, it will be the end of his status in the wizarding community. He will be as good as dead. Either way, he is doomed. You _must_ see it."

Her expression of anger crumbled, leaving a tired, sad woman behind. "I see it very well, Godric. You are going into the fray head-first, as you have done since childhood, and like in childhood, you don't want your doting old mother holding your hand. You are right, of course. I am not fit to go into battle anymore than you are fit to play in the political arena. I shall remain, as always, the one to unite everyone in case you fail."

He was now startled. He was not sure how to take his mother's suddenly submissive behaviour, and wondered if he had somehow gone too far. Then, however, a spark returned to her eyes, and she tilted her head sideways, looking at him sharply.

"_However_," she said slowly and clearly, "if I do stay behind, it means that I am left to my own volition. If I see that you are in trouble, do not expect me to remain here. I am my own woman and I keep my own council. So _do_ make sure to end it as cleanly as you plan to. Don't make me come out there again to separate you from the overgrown bullies you have chosen to go against. You know how much I hate doing that."

"You can't punish me like you did when I was a child," he said defensively.

"Do you want to _test_ this presumption of yours?" she asked with a pleasant smile.

"Err… no," he mumbled, in his mind reduced to being a seven-year-old once more by the mere tone of her voice. "I suppose I don't. Fine, Mother. You have yourself a deal. Now I'm going back to the Castle. Could you please circulate a request that all the people of the village assemble shortly after sundown at Calanthe's? We are bringing the students to the village and ask them to be housed with families from the village for the duration of the fighting. We will address them personally when they assemble, but I want it known that we need hosts for the children. Also, could you ask the Knights and all other members of our council and the messengers from the various allies to come to Hogwarts immediately? We had better start putting things into motion."

"Very well, my boy," she said, smiling now that she won some ground back. "Now run along and play."

Grimacing, he did as he was told, vowing that Rowena would never hear of that conversation. As though he needed to give her more blackmail material.

By the time he was back in the Castle, the other three had all children assembled in the Entrance Hall, carefully bundled in their warm clothes and carrying tightly-packed bags with all necessities. The atmosphere in the hall was heavy. The children were pale and several of the younger ones were reduced to tears. Everyone was worried. Though their teachers kept the reality of the upcoming fighting away from as best they could, they could not help but hear rumours and whispers, whether from their village-dwelling peers who heard things from their parents, or from the occasional student who had managed eavesdropping on the councils taking place late at night in the Council Hall. There was not one child standing wide-eyed at the four that did not know what was going on.

Rowena was holding Ceri in her arms, and Salazar was keeping a tight hold over Ryan. Helga moved among the students, comforting where she could, whispering words of reassurance and encouragement.

"Children!" Rowena's voice rang over the din. "Please, be silent."

As usual, all children immediately silenced at her request. The only sound in the hall was the occasional sniff from a distressed child. All looked at their teachers, waiting to hear what is to happen now.

"Children," she continued in a clear voice, "you are going to be taking a short journey tonight, a short walk to the village. I know you are all aware of the fact that these are dangerous times, and I know you are all afraid. I will not say that there is nothing to be afraid of, for the world is full of dangers unknown. While you are out there, on your way to the village, you are to listen to _everything_ Headmasters Gryffindor and Slytherin say. This is not a lesson, and in order to keep you all safe you must all obey every order without question. I know we can trust you all to behave at your best.

"When our business here is done, you will all be returned to the school safely and lessons will commence as usual. In the meanwhile, you are to be guests of families in the village. Behave, or face the consequences. A student who will not behave, and cause trouble to their hosting family will be sent home when this business is over and their return to Hogwarts will not be promised. Are we clear?"

A low murmur of "Yes, Headmistress," rumbled in the hall.

"Good," she said, with a warm smile. "Salazar? Godric? All yours. Be careful, will you?"

Godric gave his wife a reassuring smile and then raised his voice. "All right, children! Let's get going, shall we? Follow me!"

And so, with Godric at the front and Salazar at the back, the students of Hogwarts left for the village under orders to be silent. They were all put into pairs and numbered, each student told that if their partner would disappear from their sight they must inform either one of their Heads.

The journey in the dark was not easy, because they did not dare light their wands, therefore having to count on their night vision and the wane light of the sickle moon. Though the children made no conscious sound, there were many low whimpers and still the occasional sniffle. He did not blame them. Many were still at the age children tended to be afraid of the dark. They never bargained for nightly trips when they arrived at the school.

It was a frigid night, and he felt his fingers stiffening over the hilt of his sword. He dared not lose alertness, for they did not know if Ambrosius had sent scouts this far. He thanked all forces involved that there was no wind that night. No wind meant that he could hear anyone coming near them, and that should give them all the warning they needed.

He could practically hear the collective sigh of relief as the lights of the village appeared on the horizon, the brightest one appearing to be the tavern, where the people of the village gathered. He found himself stifling a sigh of himself, releasing a breath he did not realize he was holding in the first place. He had not been so on edge in a very long time.

Stumbling over loose pebbles and overgrown vegetation in their hurry to enter the warm circle of light surrounding the tavern, the group arrived at the village. Pale, rosy-cheeked children finally allowed themselves to smile again, some of them even dared whispering excitedly to their friends about what a great adventure it had been. As far as the children were concerned, the danger was over.

Godric smiled wistfully as he watched Salazar counting the children before they entered the tavern. How much these children did not know. They were so lucky, not knowing that the worst was still ahead. For them, this was a passing fear, nothing to really worry about. Their elders will make it all better soon enough. He only wished it were true.

Satisfied that no child had been lost in the dark, Salazar nodded at Godric and the two led their students into the tavern, where most of the villagers had gathered, peering anxiously at the new arrivals.

"Friends," Salazar called to have their attention. "We thank you for coming here tonight. As all of you know, the forces of Lord Ambrosius are nearing Hogwarts, and are expected to reach us in the next week or so. We do not want to risk any of you. We do not ask you to join us in our fight. We have only one request. Take care of our children while we cannot.

"They are only a few, two dozen or so. We ask you to take care of them, take them into your homes for the duration of whatever will come to pass when Ambrosius arrives here. This is all we ask. Who of you will agree to do as we request?"

Slowly, one by one, men, prodded by their wives, raised their hands. It took a surprisingly short time to find lodgings for all the students. After all children were taken away to their temporary hosts, Godric and Salazar answered questions of anxious villagers. There were a lot of those.

People wanted to know when exactly he was coming, where he was expected to launch his attack. They asked if the four had all they needed to withstand siege if such a thing would happen, and if they had all the resources needed to battle with such a huge force as the coming army was rumoured to be. Some timidly asked if there was anything they could do to help, and others blatantly asked when and where they needed to be.

By the end of the gathering Godric felt drained and tired. He and Salazar trudged in the dark back to Hogwarts, accompanied by a few Knights that had waited for them. All other warriors were already in the Castle, ordered there earlier by Ceridwen. Both men wanted nothing better than to go to bed, but this was not to be.

There were sleeping arrangements to be made, now that all the warriors who had camped outside the Loch all this while, ever since they had sent word that Ambrosius had declared war on Hogwarts, were at the Castle. Those men had arrived swiftly after receiving the summons, and with each group that had arrived, Godric and his companions had felt slightly better.

Plans needed to be set in motion, finalized, agreed on. Checking the weapons and armours were all in order, making sure everyone was healthy and prepared to do battle. By the time Godric staggered into bed, it was almost dawn. He slept soundly that night.

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The moment he woke the next day, there were even more things to be done. Scouts were sent out to search for the forces promised by Gaius and Billius from which they had heard nothing ever since they had sent the summons. Others were ordered to keep an eye on Ambrosius' army, make sure to warn them if they appeared to be moving faster than expected.

Godric and Salazar, ordered by Rowena to keep an eye on Ryan and Ceri, spent the day discussing tactics with the leaders of the various groups congregated, leaning over maps and bits of parchment scribbled with arrows, dots and circles. As for Rowena and Helga, accompanied by several of the more powerful Knights they spent that entire week fortifying the defences of Hogwarts, weaving newer, more powerful spells into the extended Apparition shield. They did not tell the men precisely what they had added, but from their shifty glances, they gathered the spells were on the nastier persuasion.

Those seven days preceding Ambrosius' arrival could not have been more intense, and surely could not have gone any swifter. Godric could practically feel time running out. And then, almost sooner than any of them felt it right, the scouts had returned. There was still no sign of Billius and Gaius, but there was no doubt about the other matter. Ambrosius was at the gates of Hogwarts.

The air around the Castle of Hogwarts had never been this somber, this deadly and cold. No laughter of children was heard, no chanting of another charm learned, nor the sound of wooden swords clanging against one another. Complete silence encased the huge building and its grounds. The sloping lawns that reached down to the very shore of the lake were empty. No children graced its grasses, playing and enjoying the afternoon sun. They were empty of all, but four figures.

The four Founders of Hogwarts stood on the front steps of their home and watched the slowly setting sun, each wondering whether they would see it setting the next day.

Ambrosius was coming, and there was nothing they could do to stop him.

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The armies of the Council camped outside the Castle borders that night. Inside Hogwarts, men in armour and without walked in groups, somberly discussing the upcoming battle. The Council Hall was filled with the people who had slowly continued filtering into castle over the past week. Groups of those who called themselves rebels that managed to infiltrate the blocks set by the coming army of the Council, choice warrior bands from various lords and ladies who had decided to show their support, all Knights of the Phoenix who were still able-bodied and prepared to fight, people of the village who would not leave the teachers of their children alone in their time of need. The Hogwarts Four walked among them, thanked the newcomers, greeted people they knew from before, exchanged words with random warriors. There was not much to be done. The defences were set, orders been given. All they had to do now was to be ready for Ambrosius the next day.

At some point Godric noted that Salazar and Helga had disappeared. He had no doubt where they went, and he wanted to do the same. This may be his last chance in a while to be alone with his wife, and he wanted to use that time to the fullest. Catching her eye, he nodded at the doors to the Entrance Hall. He watched her as she excused herself from the current group she was speaking with, and strode purposefully towards him.

No words were needed as he took her hand and led her away. She wanted to be alone with him as much as he wanted to be with her. Silently they walked up flights of stairs until they reached their destination. The most secluded part of the Castle, where they could be sure no one will intrude.

"Where are the children?" he asked her softly as they leaned on the battlements atop the tallest tower, watching the winking lights of dozens of campfires being lit as night darkened and grew colder. It would have been a beautiful sight, had he not known its potential lethality. He knew very well where the children were supposed to be, but he did not know if Rowena had been true to her word and had taken them down to the village as she had promised. He had spent most of the afternoon discussing tactics with the more experienced members of their makeshift council, as did Salazar and Helga, but Rowena had excused herself early in order to spend a little more time with their children, only returning somewhat later and resuming her duties.

"Safe in the village with your mother and Dahlia as I have promised," she replied just as softly. There was a strange, choked note in her voice that caught his attention. A note that did not belong there. Turning to look at her, he noticed that in truth she was gazing far beyond the camps and into the distance, her eyes watery, but no tears escaping her tight control. It was then that he came face to face with the possibility that he might not see his children again. The odds were against them, and if the reinforcements promised by Gaius, Billius and several others would not arrive the next morning before Ambrosius has the chance to launch an attack… a sick feeling settled in his stomach.

But no. This had to be resolved, or young Ryan and little Ceri would live under the shadow of threat for the rest of their lives. If the price for a safe future for his two children would be his life, then he would gladly give it, no questions asked, no regrets.

Feeling somewhat reassured in his conviction, he wrapped his arm around Rowena. "The babies would be all right no matter what, 'Wena. You know that. Mother wouldn't let anything happen to them, and Ambrosius knows that attacking the only all-magic village in Britain is sheer folly. Whatever may happen to us, rest assured that Ryan and Ceridwen will grow up to be fine people."

He pretended not to hear the sniffing sound coming from her direction and just held her more firmly. He knew how hard it was to her, as he felt the same way, but they had to be strong and go through with it. He did not know how long they had stood there, just watching silently, each thinking their own private thoughts.

"Let's get to bed, Rowena," he said after a while. "We are going to have a long day tomorrow, and a few hours of sleep is what all of us need."

Without another word they left the tower, slowly making their way to their quarters, comforted by each other's presence, drawing courage from one another. There would be time to be afraid, they both knew, and time to face death and defeat, but for the time being, they allowed all thought of it go away and simply enjoyed the company of the other. Who knew if they would ever get the chance to do that again.

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Morning dawned cold and grey. The early morning mists hung from the hills of the countryside, surrounding the lake, obscuring Godric's vision as he stood at the doors of the Entrance Hall. They would move out soon enough and the tension that had culminated since the day before would come into an abrupt outburst on the field.

He only half-listened to Helga's voice ringing in the silent hall behind him, too occupied at staring outside. He knew that Rowena and Salazar, standing by his side, were most likely not listening either.

"Remember," Helga repeated once more, talking to the somber group filling the Entrance Hall. "Stun only. Offensive spells are only to be directed at members of the Council and members of the Chamber Guard. They are the real enemy - not the men that were drafted against their will by Ambrosius' drafting order. Take as many of those out as you can, just so that it is easier to handle those that really need handling. I repeat - stun _only_."

Helga, more than the rest of them, was most conscious about the fact that hurting the drafted men would serve no purpose, and realizing she right, they allowed her to emphasize that idea to those who would be fighting on the hills outside Hogwarts territory where they had intended it to be. Though, possibly, 'allow' was not the right word, Godric thought wryly. The normally diffident Helga would probably have fought nail and tooth were they to try and stop her.

There was an assenting murmur from the gathered men, which made Helga smile slightly before returning to where the other three were quietly standing. No words were needed between the four. It was time.

Helga and Rowena were the only women in this small, improvised force. Some of the Knights and quite a few members of the small resistance groups had commented on that, trying to convince the four that it was a bad idea to have a woman on the field, that they would end up having to save them since they could not possibly defend themselves.

The two women had only exchanged frosty glances and coldly challenged anyone who would dare question their right to fight to a Wizard Duel. No one had answered their challenge.

Calling for the men's attention, they strode out of the front doors of the Castle and started the journey to the Pillars. It had long since been decided that they would not allow one enemy foot step within the borders of Hogwarts. They would be stopped before the winged boars, or not stopped at all.

No words were exchanged during the march. All sound was muted by the morning mists. To Godric, who happened to look back as they marched, it looked as though they had a legion of ghosts behind them. He could barely discern the creak of armour, or laboured breath. To all purposes, they were silent as death.

Almost as though no time had passed, he could see the massive pillars that marked the edge of their territory looming ahead in the early morning gloom. There was something eerie and uncanny about everything. He could not believe that they were really about to end it for once and for all. He could barely remember the time before Ambrosius had taken steps against them. They were always afraid that his denunciation would lead to an open confrontation, and here they were, at the culmination of it all, about to face him on a battlefield.

With as little speaking as they could possibly manage, the orders went through the ranks and soon the small force took position a short distance away from the Pillars, using the naturally hilly countryside as a barricade. For a while, at least, they would have the advantage of higher ground.

Then they had to wait. It did not take too long. It seemed as though the commanders of the Council forces wanted this to end quickly just as much as the Hogwarts Four had wanted. Out of the dissipating mist, the first figures appeared, taking their places atop the next rise in the terrain.

"I did not really believe that he would come himself," Salazar said as they watched the oncoming mass. At the very front, on a big stallion, was Ambrosius, a staff in his hand, shouting something indecipherable at his forces. "I thought he would rather stay safe back at Stonehenge and gleefully wait for news of our defeat."

"So pessimistic, Salazar," Helga chided, squeezing his hand. "Think of it as pointing at Ambrosius' uncertainness of who will win this fight."

In his own private thoughts, Godric found himself wondering why he had not thought of that himself. Ambrosius' appearance on the battlefield could very well mean that the Chief Warlock distrusted all of his underlings and that their previous failing to stop Godric and his friends had given him something to think about. For all they knew, Ambrosius could be just as apprehensive of the upcoming battle as they were.

He could not blame him, watching the men gathered a short distance away. They were not warriors. They were farmers, artisans, simple men who had done nothing wrong apart of being at the wrong place in the wrong time. Even from that distance he could see the fear in their eyes, or so he fashioned. While outnumbering the Hogwarts defenders greatly, they were still facing practiced warriors who knew what they were doing, men ready to die for the cause.

However, he could shake away the fact that the forces promised by Gaius and Billius had not yet arrived and that there was no sign of them from what their scouts had reported. While he did not think that the two would go back on their word, he certainly considered it entirely possible that they had encountered trouble on their way. Either way, by earlier reports, they were vastly outnumbered, and if the two lords would not arrive soon, they may be overridden.

It started almost before anyone could realize what was happening. A nervous young man standing at the very front of the Council army lost hold of his senses and with a shrill cry shot some sort of curse in the direction of the Hogwarts force. While it did not hit anyone, and he was cuffed violently by the Guard of the Chamber standing just behind him, it was enough to make the inexperienced warriors to think that they were meant to start the attack.

Not hearing the piercing shouts from their commanders, a wave of men started down the small rise, straight into the range of the Hogwarts curses.

"Remember!" Helga's voice by his side screamed. "STUN ONLY!"

And then chaos started. While they no doubt had the advantage of higher ground, the wave of Ambrosius' army was too large and soon engulfed them all.

Shouting curses and sending stunners all around him, Godric found himself separated from his friends. To one side he saw someone in a Knight's armour fall, but he could not recognize the insignia, nor had he time to check. Behind him, he could see someone running straight into the grounds' line of defence. With a blinding flash of light, the figure was incinerated. He did not want to know how his wife had keyed the curse to work, and at that point, did not have the time to ponder over it.

A fire jinx missed him by fractions of a distance, singeing the side of his face, sending him back, almost making a stray stun spell hit him.

He had no time for the poor men drafted to that army. He needed to find and eliminate the threat of the Chamber Guard. It had been decided that several of them would concentrate on those, and he was one of them. Unsheathing his sword, he whirled it around, daring anyone to get within reach of him. He would stun anyone in his way if he needed to, but his main aim was to avoid being targeted.

In the confusion around him he suddenly spotted the dark green of the Chamber Guard's battle gear. Among the simple clothes of the drafted men, it was easily spotted. Holding his sword in one hand, and his wand in the other, he carved a path through the warring masses, going straight for the unfortunate Guard who was in the process of aiming at an oblivious Knight.

The Guard only barely noticed him in time. He whirled to face Godric, his own sword in his hand, quick as lightening. Upon recognizing the face in front of him, Godric found himself grinning wolfishly. He almost felt lucky.

"Why, Sir Randolf! Never thought I would see your ugly face again!" he taunted, relishing in the memory of what had happened last time he had met the former Knight. "All healed from your close acquaintance with the ground?"

"For quite some time, Gryffindor!" the Guard shouted over the noise of battle, attempting to hit Godric with a mighty swipe of his sword, which Godric parried easily. "I've been waiting for the day I would be able to wipe that smug look off your face! I was out of commission for _months_ because of that fall!"

"Good!"

More blows were exchanged.

Around them people were still being hit by curses and stunners, people were screaming. Not too far off, though neither of the men knew that, Salazar quite calmly terminated the threat of Lord Severn, and several Knights had cornered Lord Llyr, all bent on making his last moments very unpleasant.

"Your side is losing, Gryffindor," Randolf now taunted back, seeing the men of the Hogwarts side dropping around them, outnumbered. "What will you do now?"

"Still have a few tricks left to play," Godric grunted with effort, the exchanging of blows becoming much more rapid, much more confusing. The two blades contacted, and the Guard put all his weight on the hilt, pushing at Godric.

"Oh, yes?" he laughed as he drove Godric to his feet with the sheer bulk of his weight. "Such as?" His laughter was cut short as he stared at a long, slim blade that his chest seemed to have sprouted all of a sudden, its tip bloody. He looked up at Godric, a confused expression on his face before a gush of blood came out of his mouth, spluttering all over Godric and his eyes glazed over.

Neatly sliding off the blade, Sir Randolf's body revealed the ginger-haired Billius grinning like a madman at the nonplussed Godric.

"Such as me?" the wiry Lord of the Council asked with a gleeful tone. "Been wanting to do that for _ages_," he confided conversationally in Godric as he pulled him back to his feet, almost as though they were not in the middle of a bloody battlefield with enemies all around them. The man looked none-too-clean, and he had a fresh bruise on his cheek, but other than that appeared to be in very high spirits.

"Watch out!" Godric cried, bypassing the man, cursing the Guard who was just about to send Billius into the arms of death. Standing back to back with the now fighting lord, he shouted over the din. "Where have you been? We've been waiting for you three days ago!"

"Gaius and I ran into a spot of trouble," Billius shouted back, hexing another poor man away. "Ambrosius had expected us to come to your aid, so he had set an ambush several days' march away from here. We needed to break through that before we could come. Lost a few men there, but nothing too substantial. We got here at a very forced march, I'll have you know. We were just on time, I think!"

"No question about that!"

After that there was no more time for words. The addition of the forces led by Billius and Gaius tipped the scales their way. While still outnumbered, they now had more trained warriors on their side, and in front of Godric's wondering eyes, quite a few of the drafted men turned on their commanders and unobtrusively started fighting on the Hogwarts side.

What felt like hours later, separated from Billius, he found himself at the very center of the confrontation. From the corner of his eye he could see Rowena's lithe form moving back and forth, viciously fighting against two Guards. He could only imagine what was driving her to this ferocity. She was most likely thinking of their children, he found himself thinking as he stunned someone out of his way to yet another Guard, and that in order to see them again she had to dispose of the danger.

Not far off, he could see Salazar and Helga fighting side by side, almost matched in their movements, defending each other of the surrounding attackers. From the corner of his eye he saw them separated as a wave of attackers forced them apart.

Somewhere in the direction of the Pillars a great fire had lit itself. Among the fighters on the field blobs of fire ran, screaming, and Godric realized in alarm that these were men. He could only assume that they had tried breaking the defences around the grounds.

And then, then he saw him. Still on his big horse, Ambrosius was at the very center of the field, shooting curses every which way. He did not seem aware of the proximity of all four to him. In fact, it seemed as though he was certain nothing could hurt him. Godric itched to prove him wrong. He aimed his wand carefully, distractedly thinking that he had better disable him and not kill him.

He did not see the other three doing the same. He was not aware of the fact that they all had the same pattern of thought.

All four hit Ambrosius at the same time. They had not practiced it, and had not meant it to happen. They all knew the threat of Ambrosius, who was a formidable duelist even at his age, had to be eliminated one way or another, and in the back of his mind, Godric knew that they would most likely have to kill him soon. They could not allow themselves to be compassionate in this matter. While Ambrosius' warriors were merely hit by the stunners or mild curses and hexes to disable them and remove them from the fight, the Chief Warlock and the Chamber Guard had to be disposed of for good, or they would come back to haunt them. The simple warriors were drafted by force, most of them wanting nothing better than to get as far as possible from Hogwarts, but the hard core of fighters was there for a purpose.

He recognized the amplified cutting hex Rowena had sent, and the blue beam of Helga's bone-breaking curse. He was almost certain that the dark orange beam from Salazar was a curse meant to cause internal damage and he knew that those three, in combination with his own curse intended to blast the man off his horse, would cause him substantial harm, if not immediate death.

The four beams hit the man from four different directions, the force of the impact throwing him neatly into the air and then, in an alarming speed, down to the ground. At the peak of his rise, the light surrounding him, created by the four, ill-matched spells, grew so bright as to draw the attention of all combatants on the field.

For a moment all movement on the hills in front of the Pillars of Hogwarts ceased, all fighting stopped. Everyone watched as the leader of the forces of the Council made his spectacular fall down to the soggy ground and hit it with a sickening crunching sound.

Ignoring everyone around him, Godric hurried to the side of the fallen Ambrosius, vaguely aware of the other three arriving almost at the same time. He kneeled down beside him and peered into his bloodied face. Rowena's hex had done its job, creating so many incisions in the man's flesh that it was difficult to see from where the blood issued. As he continued to survey the man, he could see his legs and arms were in unnatural positions, and from several places yellowy-pinkish bone protruded through flesh and robes. Helga's curse, in addition to the nasty fall, was not pleasant.

Ambrosius was still alive, though as he weakly coughed, blood stained his lips. No doubt Salazar's curse hit him as well. Godric knew the man had little time left and that they should, by all morals and ethics, just take him out of his misery, but as he watched the man who had haunted them every step of the way, sent assassins after them, tried to destroy their home and their families, was responsible to Godric's father's death and had threatened to kill them so many times in the decade or so they had opposed him, he felt no twitch of sympathy towards him. In fact, he felt that Ambrosius was now paying for all his sins against them.

"Amazing," he said dryly, his face very close to that of Ambrosius, "you are human after all."

The mortally wounded man attempted to spit on him, only succeeding in staining his own lips bloody again. "You shall pay for this," he whispered, choking.

"How exactly shall we pay? You are dead, Ambrosius, and your legacy shall go with you. You have no heir, no one to mourn you. You have no one to love you, to cry over your remains. In your years as Chief Warlock you have made nothing but enemies and cowering subordinates. You have nothing left, and Hogwarts has survived."

"No!" Ambrosius cried out, his voice hoarse. "This is not the end of it! I shall come back with greater powers and kill you all! I shall wipe your lineages! I shall kill your children! There will be nothing remaining of the four fools who had dared oppose the invincible Council of Warlocks! You-" his insane rant died out in a racking set of coughs that shook the broken body, causing the man to moan in pain.

"The Council has defeated itself, Ambrosius," Salazar's voice said somewhere to the left of Godric. "It has grown bloated and slow over the years and has destroyed itself. All that remains is a shell - which is more than will remain of you, for you are dying, and there is no one in this world that will want to cure you. You have lost."

Ambrosius struggled to open his eyes, a baleful expression in them as he looked at the four surrounding him. For a while he fought his dry throat to make a sound. When his voice finally came out, it came in short gasps, and as he spoke, the pauses between those gasps grew longer and longer, and Godric knew that soon enough he would be gone.

"You… will never… be able… to… defeat us," Ambrosius whispered. "Hogwarts… will… fall one… day. You can… not… stop it from… happening. It shall… feed on itself… crumbling from within. The end… is coming… for… you. You will become… rotten and… malicious… just like… what you… see in… the Council. Killing me… will not… stop it. You have wrought… your… own… destruction…" Ambrosius' voice died away, his wasted face twisting and trembling in his last moments of life. And in that last moment, on the exhale of his last breath, one word could barely be heard, though all four leaned very close to hear it.

"_Rosalind…_"

**A/N:** Hey there! What did everyone think about Ambrosius' little prophetic moment? Okay, so I admit that Hogwarts didn't exactly fall afterwards (though we still don't know what JKR is about to do, thousand years or so later and would not know until Book 7 comes out), but as we all know what happened with Salazar, Ambrosius' last moment of spitefulness was somehow rewarded, wasn't it? Now, the battle is over, and a new phase is entered… what shall happen now? Only I know for the moment! MUHAHAHAHAHA! Ehm.

Also, what did you think about Ambrosius' last word:)

**And now… da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum! Yes, you have guessed right! It is… reviewers time!**

**FizzingWhizbeez:** Thank you very much! Yep, just nine more chapters to go and then the Epilogue! On one hand, I'm so excited, but on the other, it feels sad that this must end… I hope you _will_ enjoy what's left of _Tale_. Don't know where I want to go as yet, what subject. It's a general exam sort of thing, don't know how it works in the states, but where I live it's an exam to determine whether you are the right level to enter uni or not. You're very much welcome! Did you do anything fun for your birthday?

**404:** thank you!

**Annukii:** Heh, glad you liked it. As for your question, I suppose that a part of his information is either magnified or not exact, some figures too great, but all in all Hogwarts does have a growing support among the people, at least to the idea of opposing the Council. At this point in time the Council is not very much liked. These are its last days of glory - after that comes the decay and its replacement by what would one day be the Ministry of Magic. What would remain from it essentially, in my mind, is its judicial job, which would be represented in Harry's days as the Wizengamot, and the title of Chief Warlock. Mmm… chocolate chip cookies… :D My all-time favourites! Thank you very much!

**Shadow-n-the-dark:** heh, heh! Ambrosius' rashness brought to his end, as you can see. He was so angry that he completely lost it and allowed himself to be eliminated. Oh, I know what you mean. I read a few good time travel fics, but they _are_ very few. As you said, they tend to be clichéd, and it's just not my style, no matter what. So how was the turkey? ;) Frozen bits still lurking at the back of your fridge developing their own lives?

**Dan:** thank you very much!

**Nosilla:** I hope it is, though it's a little different, now that the threat of Ambrosius is gone… Not precisely 'bounce off the protections', eh? ;) Hope you liked it.

**Lilyjamesandharrypotter:** You're quite welcome!

**disaffectedHSstudent:** I was very sad to do so, so I understand what you say. Hmm… I don't usually make a habit out of mentioning other people's works (though I _have_ done so before, as you must know). Let me think about it, k? Don't despair! What is it about, anyway? Thank you for your review!

**.Aurorablu.:** thanks.

**Anonymous:** Thank you very much for that compliment ((blushes)) As you can see, even though I loved the idea of Salazar and Helga, there was no way I could keep them together, not when we know the inevitable end, and my Helga being of Muggle lineage… I hope you still like the story even though they broke it off.

**Rockergurl13:** thank you! Enough action for you? It's my first real-action chapter written _ever_, so I hope it wasn't bad - what did you think?

**This is all for this update, friends! Next chapter would be most likely next week, next Tuesday if I can make it. Most of the last third of this story is written, so I am hoping that from now on I can update regularly each week without fail (though, knowing me, you probably think that I would fail doing so :P). Nine chapters left, plus the Epilogue. After that? Who knows!**

**Love you all!**

**Star of the North**


	23. Brothers in Arms

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** 'lo again, everyone! I'm on time! Ain't it great? I think it's one of the few times (if not the _only_ one) I had actually updated when I _said_ I would. Aren't you proud of me? ;) You _should_ be. Due to reasons beyond me I nearly could not update today!

**A little behind-the-scenes for you:** a part of this chapter was originally supposed to go at the end of Chapter 21, but after I read the entirety of the chapter it seemed _too_ anticlimactic to me, so I moved it. That of course meant that I had to convert all Godric-PoV into Rowena-PoV, and I _hate_ doing that. Once I had to rewrite one of the earlier chapters _entirely_ because I wrote it from the wrong PoV :P Silly me.

**_Important:_** To those of you who did not know it, as of last week, ff has decided on a new replying system. Due to that decision, replying to reviews via chapters is now forbidden, which means I can no longer do the Reviewers Time I had added at the end of every chapter. Know that I can only reply via the system to those of you who post reviews while **logged in**as members of ff. **If you are not a member and would still like me to reply your review or questions in your review, then please add your e-mail to the review so I know it.**

Last thing: thanks very much to all those who had reviewed and to whom I did not have the opportunity to reply and thank personally. Thanks for making my days happier ones!

Coming up, the life of the Founders without Ambrosius in the picture!

**Warning:** lots of angst (:P), emotions and little hyperactive children!

**Chapter 22 – Brothers-in-Arms**

_"It is a well-known fact that in its early years of existence, Hogwarts did not host many students of Muggle lineage. While they certainly existed, they formed a very small percentage of the overall number of students attending over the first couple of centuries. It was only late into the twelfth century, or possibly early into the thirteenth, that the great 'Muggle Boom' as some cynical members of the historian community devoting their career to the research of Hogwarts have dubbed it had occurred._

_"This massive wave of Muggle born students came into being with the decree that enabled the Headmaster of Hogwarts at the time, Herald Berwick, to actively search for those Muggle children blessed with magic._

_"This entire reform, however, could not have taken place if it were not for the original idea made by at least one of the Founders, who had decided they should allow the aforementioned children to enter the school as well. Which one of the three (for Slytherin certainly is not the one) was the one to voice this idea, we may never know…"_

**-Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

To say that Rowena was surprised at that dying man's last words would be an understatement. Surprise did not come near what she was feeling. Upon hearing her mother's name, she sat back on her heels and stared at the lifeless body, eyes wide, eyebrows climbing up on her forehead. As she did that in silence, allowing the others to fuss over the dead man, she contemplated the truth of what Godric had said only minutes before.

_Amazing. You are human after all._

And in that single word, pronounced directly after the expected flaming denunciation, Ambrosius had proved he was just as human as anyone else. In his last moment, his thoughts had been trained on one person. The only person he had ever loved.

Anger, shock and pity all battled for dominance in her. How _dare_ this monster of a man say her mother's name as though she had been his lover? If Ambrosius would have survived even a while longer, she would have killed him herself. This was only her first thought, though, for soon after she felt a curious wave of remorse. While she most certainly despised the man who would have killed her children in a blink of an eye, she could not help but wonder. He _had_ been human. He had loved and he had cherished. He had wanted to be loved back like any other human being.

Disgusted at herself, and even more disgusted at the dead man in front of her, who had ruined with his own two hands any chance he had ever had for happiness, she got up and turned her back on him and her friends. Walking a short distance away from the group, she just stood and watched the now unfolding horrors of the battle.

The drafted men of Ambrosius, devoid of a leader and their cruel taskmasters, wandered off, confused expressions on their face. Everywhere there were people down - many bloodied and hacked off. She did not know how many of them were dead and how many were just stunned. She did not know how many of their men had gone down and how many of the enemy had. It did not matter at the moment. At the moment, she was numb and frozen, unable to believe that it was over, unable to grasp the fact that their greatest of enemies lay dead behind her.

She watched as the Knights and some of the members of the resistance groups started gathering the confused men of Ambrosius. Others started enervating the stunned ones, gently guiding them to where their comrades were being assembled. To one side several groups started lining the dead of Hogwarts in somber rows, while the enemy's dead were collected to the other. All over the hills there were still pockets of fighters, Guards who had not been subdued as yet.

Feeling a shudder going up her spine, Rowena hugged herself, her whole body shivering. Such carnage she had never seen in her life. For the first time in her life, she felt the urge to retch, her heaving stomach rebelling against her tight control.

Warm arms wrapped themselves around her from behind, and soon Godric was putting his chin on her shoulder, whispering soothing words in her ear, holding her until she calmed sufficiently.

"There, there, dear," he muttered. "It's all over now. No more Ambrosius. We are free."

"I know… but…" she could not make the words leave her mouth. They were lodged in her throat, refusing to be said.

He tightened his hold on her as though not needing words to understand what she was thinking. Tears slid down her cheeks. During the battle she had been all but emotional. She had been cold and calculating, not allowing one Guard of the Chamber get past her guard. Now that it was all over…

She turned and buried her face in Godric's chest, needing the warm scent of his body and the comforting presence that was her husband. In her dazed state it took her a little while to realize that in addition to the smell of sweat she also smelled blood. Her eyes wide, she drew back from him, her hands clutching his shoulders.

"Godric!" she cried, seeing his torso was drenched in blood. "Where were you hit?"

He tensed, frowning at her words, not comprehending the question, then, glancing down at himself, relaxed. "Little of this is mine, Rowena," he said with a faint smile, as though remembering something not entirely unpleasant. "I only have minor cuts and abrasions. Nothing to fuss about."

"But-but-but - all this blood!" she was too anxious to form a coherent sentence. How was he still standing with all this blood out of his body? Her hands flew to his armoured leather vest, attempting to find the straps and remove the garment from him before he bled to death in front of her.

"Rowena!" he called over her panic, his dirty, bloodied hands grasping her own non-too-clean ones. He leaned down until his face was level with hers. "'Wena, I swear to you, this is not my blood. Billius had skewered Sir Randolf when the man attempted taking me down. It's his blood - not mine. Please calm down."

Her breath coming in great gasps, she nodded. She needed to get out of that place. The smell of blood and the gruesome sights obscured her sense of reason. "Would you… would you mind if I… left for the village?" Now that Ambrosius was gone and his minions hunted down and taken as they spoke and Godric was more or less fine, her thoughts made a drastic change of direction and honed on her children back at the village.

Godric looked down at her, and in his eyes she could see that he wanted nothing more than to come with her. Smiling, he nodded. "Go, Rowena. Merlin knows they are probably driving my mother insane. Take someone with you, though, all right?"

"I'll go with her," Helga's voice came behind them. She was limping slightly, but otherwise looked to be all right. Her blond hair was out of its binds, and her face very dirty, but she was smiling.

As the two friends, accompanied by two Knights Godric had pulled out of their work and drafted to the two women, made their way back in the direction of the Loch, Rowena decided that the first thing she would do after she would make sure her children were all in one piece would be to write a long-due letter to her mother and tell her of the demise of the man she had despised more than anyone else.

As they entered the village, the men who had been dispatched to form the last line of defence in case the defenders of the Castle fell hailed them and eagerly questioned them concerning the outcome of the battle. Rowena ignored them all, leaving the Knights to deal with them. With Helga at her side, she plowed through the crowd of women and children who had heard the commotion and wanted to hear the story as well in a direct, unwavering line.

At the front door of Sir Rhys' house stood Dahlia, Lleulu and Ceridwen, all anxiously awaiting the news. Ryan was standing by his grandmother, tightly clutching the hem of her dress. Little Ceri was in Ceridwen's arms, watching wide-eyed at the gathering in front of her. Typically, the baby was also the first to notice her mother, suddenly struggling in Ceridwen's arms, her chubby little arms stretching for Rowena. Her face contorted in an expression that forecasted tears.

Rowena knew that if her daughter would start crying she would break down as well. She only barely dammed the tears that tried to escape her. Losing all sense of dignity, she ran to the waiting women and plucked Ceri out of her grandmother's arms, burying her face in her short, soft auburn hair, murmuring softly to calm to baby now clutching her hair almost painfully.

"Mama!" she felt someone clinging unto her legs. Ryan. Before even looking down she bent, settling on the damp earth, holding tightly unto both her children, relief pulsing through her veins. It had almost been unbearable to leave them there the day before. Ceri had screamed for her mother, and Ryan had clung to her skirts, refusing to let go. It had taken the combined forces of all women to make the two children stay. The children did not care about dirt, nor did they care about the blood splotched on their mother's clothes. All they cared about that they were where they belonged.

In the background Rowena could hear Helga reassuring the anxious women that everything was set to right, but at the moment she could not have cared less.

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After the battle was done and families reunited, there was still much to be done. The bodies of the men who had died on the field, surprisingly few as they were, needed to be collected, identified if possible and prepared for burial. Some were sent to their homes, where they would go through the ceremonies of their people. Wounded needed to be taken care of and the people of the Loch and the Hogwarts Four offered their service to everyone - friend and foe alike.

"We can't just let them rot," Helga had persisted when a surly-looking Knight had asked for the reason behind their lenient policy. "They did not come here of their own desire. They don't deserve to be left to die."

It was weeks before the school could resume its day-to-day activity and much longer than that to erase the fear of war from the minds of the children attending Hogwarts. Letters from worried parents who had heard of the conflict in the north arrived without fail almost before the fighting was over. They all had to be answered and sent back. And while Hogwarts began flourishing again, more people hearing of the exploits of its founders and liking what they had heard started sending their children there, the Council had all but crumbled.

Ten of the twenty four lords of the Council had died during the battle outside the gates of Hogwarts. The others, those who had not wanted to work openly against Billius and Gaius but were too afraid to work against Ambrosius, were still tarred with the same brush as Ambrosius and there was almost no one who had heard of the battle who would again listen to any of their orders. The only trustworthy people left to lead the magic community were Billius and Gaius, and perhaps a few of the lords who had covertly helped them.

The four friends at the north, however, did not concern themselves with it. Small communities, as proved by the people of the Loch, could govern themselves adequately without the upper rule of the Council. The Council had turned into a burden rather than a necessity to the magic people of Britain, and they were all better off without them, so they felt. Now that everything was at peace - relatively - they were bent on working only for their school.

And so, for a few months, everything seemed to be peaceful and going according to plan. It is the nature of things, however, to always gravitate into chaos and discord, or perhaps it is just the nature of humans. The Castle of Hogwarts and its inhabitants could no more continue in peace than the world could stop turning.

It was early into the next school year that a letter had arrived by owl to change everything, and to turn the serene existence of the four friends into a chaotic whirlpool that would eventually bring unexpected results.

As they were sitting together in their private antechamber on the ground floor, relaxing after a long, tiring day, Helga entered the room, holding a roll of parchment tightly in her hand as though afraid it might run away if she loosened her grip.

"You wouldn't _believe_ what we had just received!" she called, surprising them all. Salazar and Godric, who were in the middle of a game of Chess, looked up from the board, Godric stopping bouncing Ryan on his knees. Rowena, who was playing with Ceri on the singed hearthrug, looked up at her friend questioningly.

"Listen to this," said Helga excitedly, brandishing the roll of parchment in her hand as though it was a weapon. She then unrolled it and without waiting for response, read them the contents.

"_To Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, greetings,_

"_As you must know, my two children, Nathan and John have been attending your fine school for the past year. During that time I have heard nothing but good things about you and the Castle of Hogwarts, and I find myself having to congratulate you all on your way of conduct throughout the years. I hope that since you are widely known nowadays as great benefactors to the magic community, you will listen carefully to what I have to say and judge it accordingly._

"_I have a neighbour, a girl of thirteen, who has always struck me as a good, hardworking young woman with great patience and an insatiable craving to study. This morning I have seen her do magic. I have no doubt of what I have seen, but I do believe she was not aware of what she was doing._

"_Her parents, however, seem to be aware that there is something unusual and different about their daughter, but to my eyes they appear to be more curious than afraid. I believe that the questioning nature of her father, who dedicates his time to the research of the influence of herbs on the human body, makes him and his wife more open and accepting. He has a keen interest in everything that is usually explained by the superstitious as magic and tries to find a logical answer to why things happen._

"_Cautiously, aware that I may have to do something drastic, I made inquiries with the parents, and they sound ecstatic that their daughter may be special in some way._

"_My Lords and Ladies, may I be so bold as to ask that the girl be admitted to your school? Her mother is the maker of fine wools, and I do believe they will keep children warm at night._

"_Hopefully waiting your reply,_

"_Master William Cutter._"

Looking around at them all, her face flushed with delight and unsuppressed excitement, she waited for their response.

"It could be a great opportunity," Godric finally said after digesting what the letter meant. "After all, one of the motives driving us this far was to give a chance to anyone and everyone with magic to come to their full potential. I don't see a problem with bringing this girl here, other than convincing her parents not to say a word of it to anyone. And mind you, this _could_ pose a problem. As much as this man thinks they are open-minded, even open-minded men see the narrower view of the world whenever magic is mentioned."

Privately, Rowena thought that he had a point. Back in the days when the idea of a school was only a vague plan in their minds, their prime objective was to enable children of magic to protect themselves from the Council and its negative approach to anyone who was not of use to them. At the time they may have not put words to it, but they considered the children of Muggle blood amongst those who needed teaching. Indeed, they were the ones who needed the most protecting, to stop Muggles from turning them into firewood.

"I agree," she said, nodding at Helga. "There are definitely unexplored talents out there that can only be discovered by taking that step and gathering those of Muggle blood who can use these talents. We may be able to learn a lot from observing such a child as this one - maybe even learn something of our own origins. I say we allow this girl to come here."

All three turned to look at Salazar who had been very quiet since Helga started reading. Rowena was a little surprised at the reluctant expression on her friend's face. Though being honest with herself, it was not all that unexpected. Salazar had always been more cautious when confronted with anything Muggle that the rest of them. His original objections to have Helga join them all those years ago were centered at her Muggle heritage. However, there was something in his face that she could not quite read, and that inability disturbed her.

"I don't know if it's such a good idea," the tall man finally said with some difficulty, his eyes shifting this way and that, not precisely meeting the others'.

"What do you mean?" Helga asked with a frown, her excitement diminishing a notch. She was now surveying Salazar with something between hurt and puzzlement, and Rowena could not blame her. She had expected Salazar's full support on the matter, and by all rights she should have had it.

Salazar, who started moving uncomfortably under the concentrated scrutinizing from all three of his friends, tried to explain. "Muggles are not _like_ us. They think differently, they have different morals - or the lack of them-" Rowena had no doubt to what he was referring by that, "-They have their religion and their beliefs which set us even further apart. They don't think magic should be allowed and therefore they are bound to pass these beliefs to their children - be they magic or not. Those ideas, drilled into them from childhood, cannot be easily removed, maybe even impossible to do so. They will bring them here with them and they will pose a threat on our ideals and patterns of thought. Some might even persevere in their insistence that magic is evil. We cannot let that happen, now can we?"

"What a foolhardy thing to say, Salazar!" Godric protested. "This doesn't become you. 'Pose a threat on our ideals and patterns of thought'? This is a _school_. They're supposed to come here to learn _new_ ideals and patterns of thoughts."

Helga did not say anything, but her reproachful eyes were fixed on Salazar, her hands on her hips in that all-too-familiar gesture of displeasure. To Rowena, who had often felt the power of that displeasure growing up, it seemed as though Salazar quite rightly shrank for a moment before straightening and looking slightly more determined. "I'm not keen on the influence of Muggle-bred children is all I'm saying!" he defended, and Rowena wondered how her friend who had always considered every word carefully before uttering it could be so foolish.

"Salazar!" Helga cried, finally too appalled at his words to remain speechless.

"Oh, you don't count, Helga," the unfortunate man dug himself deeper into the mud. "You're practically wizard-raised!"

To Rowena, her mouth trying to open and say something to stop what would inevitably come, it seemed like the air in the chamber had grown considerably colder, and she could see Helga quietly steaming in her anger. Even Maureen the snake seemed to realize that her master and friend had said something incredibly wrong, for she made one of her rare appearances out of Salazar's sleeve and hissed something at her master, who seemed mortified at whatever she had said.

In the meanwhile, Helga seemed to reach a conclusion. "If you don't mind," she said, primly getting up from her chair, her face cold, "I would now retire to my quarters for the night. I seem to have become suddenly tired."

Ignoring Salazar, who half-rose from his chair with protest on his lips, and Godric, who started with an objecting "Helga-!", the golden-haired woman swept out of the room, her anger at Salazar apparent to everyone.

The man in question stared after her, with his mouth slightly open. He looked as though he had never seen anything more shocking in his life. Were it not for the situation being so grave, Rowena would have considered her friend's expression almost comical. She did not allow any of that show on her face. Her eyebrows knit, she looked pointedly at Salazar, her arms crossed in a show of impatience. She was not about to let him hurt Helga just like that and not apologize.

"What?" Salazar, who had stopped gaping at the closed door, demanded, finally noticing his irate friend.

"What do you mean _what_?" she growled. "Go after her, you fool! You have hurt her feelings with that flippant remark of yours. You are a smart man, Salazar - don't prove me wrong on that account. Go apologize, or I will fry your privates on a low fire and stop you from ever having children!"

She could see the man paling at the threat, and beside him, Godric's face was sporting the same painful contortion at the mere idea. It appeared to be efficient, however, because Salazar got up from his chair and got out of the room in a quickened pace.

Left alone with her husband and children and certain that Salazar would make things right again with Helga, she turned back to her baby girl and started humming a happy tune she remembered Dahlia singing her little boy after he had been born, and tickled the child's stomach, making faces that she would not be caught dead with on any other occasion. From the corner of her eye she could see Godric glancing at her. She knew he wanted to ask something, but did not make it apparent to him.

Finally, he gulped and asked "would you have really done it, were he not to go after her?"

She looked up from their baby and rolled her eyes. "Of _course_ not, Godric," she said, allowing him to expel a breath he probably did not realize he as holding. "I _would_ have made his life a living hell for a while, however. Helga is my best friend. She is almost like a little sister to me, and I would hurt anyone who would dare harm her, even if it is Salazar, and - Ryan - get off that chair! Godric, can't you help?"

As though realizing that his parents' attention was not on him and having been released by Godric during the previous happenings, young Ryan attempted climbing one of the empty chairs in the room. As he was not tall enough, he had to pull at the rim of the seat and bring his chubby body up. This, however, caused the chair to dangerously slope in his direction. Unable to just drop Ceri and stop the boy, she pleaded for Godric's help.

"Oh, no, dear," he said with a grin directed at his firstborn. "I see you are handling them beautifully by yourself. I think I'll go outside for a bit of sword practice before the rain starts again."

He left the room, closing the door just as she let out an exasperated "Godric!" And almost as soon as he did, there was shrill cry as their boy lost his footing and fell off the aforementioned chair. Fuming, Rowena put Ceri down and hurried to where her son was bawling his eyes out, more for show and pity from his mother than anything else.

Grumbling at the inconsideration of men, she calmed the boy down, morosely wondering if those children would be the death of her. Almost as if she had heard her thoughts, Ceri had chosen that moment to reach a fascinated hand at the flames in the fireplace.

"Nooooo!" Rowena almost shrieked, leaving Ryan and snatching the girl away. With a swish of her wand, she extinguished the fire, cursing their foolishness at not fencing the grate off in a way that would prevent the children from reaching it. Ceri, having her new toy taken away so abruptly, started crying as well, soon to be joined again by Ryan, who had decided to copy his little sister although nothing had happened to him. Yet.

Sometime later, relieved that the two had tired, she had taken the exhausted children back to their quarters and gently tucked them in, making sure they were deeply asleep before casting the charm that would alert her if something was wrong and then returning to the antechamber to wait for Godric to return.

As she waited, she plotted ways in which she could get back at him for leaving her alone with two overactive children, but as time passed, she become sleepier and more inclined to forgive him - if he groveled enough, that is. It took him longer than she had expected to come back, and by the time he did, she was already on the verge of sleep.

She only vaguely heard the sound of the opening door and the footsteps that neared her. Only when he put a hand on her shoulder did Rowena smile sleepily as Godric leaned over her and kissed her gently.

"The children?" he asked softly.

"In bed. Over an hour ago," she mumbled, struggling to clear the sleepiness from her voice. "I came back here to wait for you. Didn't know you would be gone this long."

"Well, I'm here now, so how about we just proceed to bed? You look exhausted."

And she was exhausted. Ryan had worn her out entirely that evening and she was dreading the day Ceri would learn how to run. As if keeping an eye on Ryan was not hard enough.

"Let's go, then," he said with a smile, helping her to her feet. "I don't fancy carrying you all the way to our quarters if you happen to fall asleep on me."

"And why is that, Godric Gryffindor?" she asked, entering a dangerous overtone to her words.

He seemed to notice that, thick as he was, for he grinned at her. "Why, because you need to lose some weight, dear," he said impishly.

"_Godric!_" she growled. He laughed, and in his laughter was the carefree note she had missed so sorely in the previous months. Without warning, he put his arms around her and whirled her to face him.

"Now, now, 'Wena," he whispered into her ear, his breath warm and even. "You wouldn't kill your beloved husband, now would you?"

"I might consider that," she said, "-if you don't learn not to be this flippant."

"Ah, but you love me so much as I already am. Not being flippant would make all the difference in the world, now wouldn't it? It would take my innate charm away."

"Flattering yourself, are you?" she uttered with difficulty as he kissed her cheek once, twice…

"Always…" his lips touched hers. As soon as they did, however, the two sprang apart at the sound of two voices talking loudly and obviously in the middle of a confrontation. They exchanged glances, having no difficulty at placing those voices.

"-so you mean you never loved me," Helga's voice said flatly, making Rowena wince. "You allowed me to delude myself for so long just because you _cared_ for me and didn't want to hurt my feelings. Great judgment, Salazar. Absolutely _wonderful_."

"Helga, please, it wasn't like that!" Salazar protested, and Rowena could just imagine the pained expression on his face, but Helga did not allow him to speak. The normally cheerful, happy woman was in a very foul mood.

"Nine years, Salazar! You allowed me to delude myself for _nine years_. That's longer than Rowena and Godric had been together, and they are married and have two children! Great Merlin, Salazar! I honestly thought you were going to ask me to marry you! I've waited this long for you - I would have waited more! But this goes beyond limits. If you don't love me, then there is no point in me waiting anymore, now is there? You will _never_ ask me to become your wife."

"Helga… I really do care about you," Salazar sighed, "but I don't love you the way you deserve. You are such a sweet, loving person, and you give me more love than I can ever give you back."

Rowena, who knew that to be untrue, found herself glancing at her husband for reassurance. The look on his face told her that he was wishing he could just jump into the adjacent corridor and shake some sense into his friend. She herself felt much the same way, though if _she_ was to do it, it would be angrily and in an outraged manner. How _dare _he to this to Helga - he was lying, and for what reason? Salazar did not know what he was saying. This _had_ to be a mistake. Rowena knew how much he loved Helga.

"Don't give me that nonsense, Salazar Slytherin!" Helga practically screamed, losing all veneer of self-control, and Rowena could only imagine in how much pain the other woman was. "You should have said so a long time ago instead of allowing me to weave fantasies of our future life together! Why, Salazar? Why did you do this to me? You say you care, but really, you don't!"

"Helga - please! I gave this a long deliberation before I said it. Please… I just… I just think it would be better off if we remain friends and nothing more. It would be for the best."

Rowena could hear the defeated tone in her friend's voice, and a second glance at Godric told her he had heard it as well, but apparently neither Salazar nor Helga noticed it.

"Very well," Helga said coldly. "We shall remain friends. Thank you, Salazar, for breaking my heart now, before I would have approached you about marriage." With that, the two eavesdroppers heard her footsteps walk away, or rather storm away.

Now they could hear Salazar walking in the opposite direction - and that soon enough he would see them. Neither of them moved. The expressions on both their faces were shocked, and Rowena felt anger bubbling inside her. How could this have happened? Standing there, the pair waited for their friend to emerge into the corridor. When he finally did, he stopped as soon as he saw them, horror in his eyes.

"You are a foolish, foolish man, Salazar," Rowena said softly, and before the startled Salazar could utter a word, she hurried past him and after Helga. Something told her that more than anything, her friend would now need a shoulder to cry on.

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After Salazar and Helga's relationship fell into pieces, Rowena was afraid for both her friends. The worst thing about it was that if she would comfort the one, the other would immediately feel betrayed. The reason behind their fallout was so complex and so obscure to her. Neither would divulge exactly what had happened before the point where she and Godric had heard them, and therefore she could not exactly help either one. She did not know what Salazar had said to Helga, so she could not address his points nor could she try and counter them. It was too hard and too confusing.

In the meanwhile, the school suffered. Helga and Salazar could not bear be in the same room at the same time. Meals were an awkward affair, with Godric and Rowena firmly wedged between the two so that they would not have to look into each other's eyes. Helga was constantly on the verge of tears whenever Salazar was not around and Salazar was incredibly moody when Helga was not there to see it. Their enthusiasm in teaching lessened to a level where the students repeatedly complained to Godric and Rowena that they were bored out of their wits in the other two's lessons.

Seeing the two wandering listlessly on the grounds tore Rowena apart, and she could see that Godric was feeling the same way. They could no longer sit in pleasant companionship in the evenings, idly comparing notes of the passing day. Instead, Rowena and Helga had to closet themselves in Rowena's drawing room, and Godric and Salazar stayed in Salazar's quarters.

Whenever the former couple had accidentally met in the corridors they would murmur an embarrassed greeting and then hurry on their way.

Then, one day, without warning, more than a month later, Helga returned to her cheery self again. She laughed easily once more, sang in the corridors when she thought no one could hear her and danced around the drawing room with Ceri as she had done before the fallout with Salazar. She smiled widely at everyone, and even initiated a conversation with the brooding Salazar without prompting from Rowena or from Godric.

Though she wanted to believe that Helga had gotten over the ordeal by herself, Rowena suspected that such was not the case. The silly expression on the younger woman's face was reminiscent of the one she had when Salazar and her had grown closer all those years before, and Rowena was afraid of what it might mean, though she could not quite form an idea on _why_ she was afraid, or for _whom_.

Over the next few weeks she closely watched her friend, noting how she started spending a lot more time at the Loch after schooldays and on free days, coming back late at night with flushed cheeks and wide grins. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, rivaled by a feeling of happiness, she concluded that her initial suspicion was true. All she had to do was find some proof.

So she continued watching the sunny woman and made discreet inquiries that confirmed her notion, and while she knew now for certain that this would break Salazar even further, she realized that this was Helga's choice, and her chance to be happy and start a family.

At first she was the only one who had noticed, but soon enough Godric approached her on the matter, proving to her once more that he was not as dim in those matters as he seemed.

Rowena was in her drawing room, her eyes affixed to the dusty tome in front of her, ears alert to any sounds of distress from Ceri, who was playing on the floor with a few rag dolls given to her by Dahlia, when a firm knock on the door made her look up and invite the one on the other side of the door in. She had no doubt who it was, for years of hearing him rap his knuckles on doors left an imprint in her memory.

Returning to her book, she said "Good afternoon, Godric. Finished with your training so soon?"

"I wouldn't have been here if it was not for _this_," he told her, making her look up once more. At seeing what he was pointing at, she sighed.

"What _is_ it with little children and the urge to get dirty the moment they are washed?" she asked the world in general, looking down at a not-at-all remorseful Ryan, who was grinning brightly at his parents, his new clothes covered with mud and a fresh bruise starting to form on his cheek. She then took firm hold of his hand and led him into the main chamber where she conjured a tub of hot water.

"No! Mama!" the young boy protested mightily as she extracted him out of his mud-stiffened clothes. "I don' wan' a bath!" he wailed, his small fists clinging to her skirt as she attempted picking him up and putting him in the tub. "Mama!"

Ignoring the boy's complaints, she deftly deposited him in the hot water, immediately starting to scrub him clean. At the end of the ordeal there was one sullen and cleanly pink boy in a fresh set of clothes. Rowena ignored Ryan's antics, and instead turned to Godric who was standing at the door to the drawing room with a giggling Ceri in his arms.

"You can go back to training now," she said. "I'll keep the little scoundrel in here, Hopefully nothing would be broken this time."

"Thanks, 'Wena," he said with a smile, putting down Ceri and striding to the front door of their quarters. His hand was already on the handle when he stopped, his back to her. "Helga seems to be spending a lot of time at the village," he then said in a would-be indifferent tone that fooled no one. As he turned back to face her, his expression, too, nullified his tone. With his eyebrows raised in question, Rowena knew very well what her husband wanted to know.

Sighing, she turned her back to him, picking Ceri up and pretended to check if the child had soiled herself. After a while, knowing that he was still behind her, waiting for an answer, she said "I spoke to your mother the other day. Helga spends a lot of time at Sir Rhys' house, and I can tell you one thing - it is not Ceridwen's or Lleulu's company that she looks for."

"One of the boys?" he asked without hesitation.

"Ilar. They've… been spending a lot of time together since Helga and Salazar fell apart. I do believe that he had feelings for her for a very long time and was afraid to admit it since it was so clear that Helga was with Salazar. Almost all his brothers are on the way to marriage, or at least found themselves their hoped-for wives, but he hasn't even been looking."

"I see." She could hear the troubled tone in his voice and knew that he was contemplating whether to tell this to Salazar or not.

"It was his decision to make, Godric," she said softly. "For better or for worse, he had made it. Helga owes him no allegiance and it's none of his business if she sought for happiness in the arms of another man. He had hurt her when he told her he did not love her. She would have given him everything and he threw it back in her face. While I am worried for Salazar, I am happy that Helga is on her way to joy, be it lacking as it may."

He sighed and nodded, knowing that she was right. As he left, however, Rowena threw herself on one of the chairs in the main chamber and buried her face in her hands. She did not know what to do. She could not approach Helga about it, because then the sunny woman would be angry with her and would say that she was trying to control her life. But she could not help but think about what it would do to Salazar who was only just beginning to recuperate from the whole matter. Either way, someone was about to suffer from this.

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Helga notified Rowena of her new relationship a short while later. The two women were sitting in the isolated drawing room while the men sat at the main chamber, keeping the children with them. Rowena was keeping Ryan firmly attached to her, building a palace from roughly hewn wooden blocks made for the boy by one of the Knights. She was too tired to run after him as he made use of his energy.

Helga, who was holding Ceri, chattering to her in a childish voice, had not said much since entering the room. Then, however, she let out a peculiar giggle and said "Do you want to know a secret, Raven?" she asked, the grin she was wearing wide enough to reach her ears.

"Oh?" Rowena said, raising her eyebrows in question.

Then, in a low, giggling voice, the same one Helga used to use when they were little girls in Caerwyn Valley, she told Rowena all about her relationship with Ilar. She spoke of it as though it was something naughty, but was delighted in it. She talked in length about how much Ilar loved her and how he was not afraid to tell her that and show it to her. Rowena grimaced inwardly, knowing perfectly well at whom this finely-pointed dart had been aimed.

Soon after that conversation, the rumour passed through the village. Ilar, son of Rhys, and Helga Hufflepuff were seen together. They were expected to announce their marriage any day now; they were about to elope; Mistress Hufflepuff was about to leave the school in order to raise a family with Ilar; Ilar was about to move into the Castle in order to be nearer 'his girl'.

Rowena was talking with Salazar the day he first heard those rumours. They were arguing over what kind of change could still be done at the Castle, what kind of décor could be added and if they should teach one of the House Elves how to do a proper bit of gardening. They were standing outside, on the front steps leading to the Castle. It was break time for the children and they were going in and out the Castle, chattering loudly as they went.

A passing pair of giggling girls walked into the Entrance Hall, and as they did, a part of their conversation drifted into Salazar's range of hearing, cutting over his argument with Rowena.

"-so cute together, aren't they? I mean, Ilar is absolutely _perfect_ for Mistress Hufflepuff. They're the _perfect_ pair."

"I _know_! Have you seen them together? It looks like a fairytale…"

At hearing these words, Salazar froze in mid-sentence, his dark eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

Rowena tilted her head to one side, looking at her friend cautiously, not sure of how to read the passive expression spreading on his face.

At length, he spoke. "Is that… true? Is what… those girls had said… true?"

She could tell that he had a hard time even pronouncing these words, let alone voice what he now knew. His face was still unreadable to her, but his eyes betrayed him. Hurt, disbelief and anger floated in those dark depths, and she did not know how to calm him. Knowing he was waiting for an answer, she sadly looked straight into his eyes and said "It's true, Salazar. Every word of it."

"Every - how long have you known?" The words were uttered in the same expressionless voice, and she could now see betrayal in his eyes in addition to the other emotions.

"For a while. I only suspected it at first, but she told me a couple of weeks ago. It's been going for quite a while," she said, not trying to apologize. As much as she loved him, it was none of his business.

"I should have known," he said softly, his entire face now showing defeat, not just his eyes. This time, his eyes were dead, and it frightened Rowena more than his anger and his pain. "Is she happy?"

"She is."

Without another word, Salazar turned his back to her and walked back into the Castle, dragging his feet as he did. Behind him, Rowena was left, shaking her head and feeling helpless. She felt that feeling so often lately, ever since the Fallout, and she did not like it at all.

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"Raven, I'm getting married!"

Helga's excited squeal made Rowena look up from her children to see a bright Helga practically jumping with the joy of finally having Ilar ask her hand in marriage.

A treacherous part of Rowena's mind said in a small voice something along the lines of _That didn't take long, now did it?_ And the less treacherous part, who was exceedingly happy for her friend, was still rational and continued that errant thought logically, wondering whether Helga was acting so quickly was not a rash action meant to cover for a still broken heart and a pain that would never really go away.

"That's wonderful, Helga," was what she said, however, smiling. "When is the wedding planned to be? Or have you not discussed that yet?"

"In half a year's time!" Helga almost sang, picking up Ceri and dancing with the giggling girl all about the room as was her wont. "Ceridwen said it was the best time, because then you will all have time to plan the best wedding for me. I wouldn't mind marrying him next week, if it was up to me," she laughed, "but when I told that to her, she almost had a _fit_. She said it would give people the wrong idea. I told her I didn't care, and she practically threw me out of the house and told me to tell you!"

Rowena knew precisely what 'wrong ideas' people could get. Ceridwen had made sure she and Godric knew that when they had timidly mentioned getting married as soon as possible. Privately, she entirely approved of Ceridwen rationalism, thinking that maybe it would give Helga time to think if this was really what she wanted.

As months rushed by, though, Helga's mind was still set. She wanted to marry Ilar and she thought that it was the right thing, seeing nothing wrong with the idea. She was so excited that she counted down the days to the wedding on a piece of parchment she hung on one of the walls of her quarters, which Rowena was helping her redecorate and prepare for the second occupant that would arrive soon.

It was decided early on that Helga would not leave the Castle, and that Ilar would have to move into the Castle and into Helga's quarters after the wedding. The quarters were spacious and therefore it posed no problem. All there was to be done was to freshen the appearance of the room because it would soon have a very changed purpose.

Helga's wedding gown was made of a fine, pale purple cloth, painstakingly embroidered with gold threads. The women who made it laboured for weeks before they thought it worthy of her. When it was finally ready, Helga twirled girlishly around the ground floor antechamber showing off the garment to the three of them.

Once she was done admiring the masterpiece, Rowena shifted her attention to Salazar. She and Godric had both watched him carefully since the announcement of the wedding and as they had spoken alone late at night they had both noted the deadened look often seen in his eyes. While around Helga he smiled and tried to seem happy for her, in an older brother sort of way, whenever her back was turned, lines of pain would appear on his face. When Ilar came visiting every so often, sitting with the four of them on their evening relaxation, Salazar would be cold to him whenever Helga's attention was away, his tone of voice bordering on the vehement.

Helga, to all appearances, noticed none of it.

And now, as she was dancing for their benefit around the room, excited at the upcoming wedding more than ever now that she had a solid affirmation that this was not but a dream, Salazar looked as though he was on the brink of tears. Rowena could see his handsome features contort as he tried keeping his emotions in check. She could see that no matter what he had said, he still loved Helga very much and was regretting his rash decision greatly. She also knew that his suffering was far from over, for two weeks from the day the wedding was scheduled to take place in the great hall of Hogwarts, to be attended by all the village people and the students.

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Rowena could see the light dying in Salazar's eyes when a smiling Helga said the final words of bonding, all the love in her small body projected not at him, but at a deliriously happy Ilar. Her heart ached for her friend, but she knew that this was his choice, as mistaken as it was. She shook the tears away. This was Helga's big day. Rowena refused to show any trace of sadness for her friend's sake.

Standing there with Godric and her children, watching her childhood friend marrying the man of her choice, she could not help but smile. Though tinged with sadness, there was no reason denying that this day proved beyond anything else the great change in their lives since the day two strangers had stumbled into their home's front room in the middle of a blizzard.

How innocent they were then, how certain they were that things would forever stay as they were. They were so naïve, thinking that the world was divided into rights and wrongs. They had been proven wrong on so many accounts since that day, over a decade before. They had learned about wrong truths and true wrongs. They had made mistakes and they had done right. They had made friends and they had made deadly foes. The world was not black and white. There were many shade of grey in the middle, and at that moment, standing by a family of her own and watching her friend about to start one herself, Rowena could see them all.

She was sad for Salazar, she truly was, but as she stood there, all she could think of was that it would all end well. It had to, because with all the pain and the tears, they were still one, big family, and family ties were stronger that anything else. Of that she was sure, and that was what had won the battle in favour of happiness.

As the Conductor of the Ceremony pronounced the couple married and the Bonding complete, Rowena ran to her friend and engulfed in a crushing hug.

_Yes,_ she thought, tears of joy falling from her eyes. _Everything is going to be fine._

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Less than two months after the wedding, a deeply flushed Helga entered Rowena and Godric's quarters without even knocking, immediately throwing her arms around Rowena's neck, hugging her tightly.

The shocked Rowena drew back and looked at her ecstatic friend critically. "You're with child," she said after a moment, not asking, surprised at the calm tone of her voice.

Helga nodded excitedly. Then she let go of Rowena and twirled about the room, picking up a giggling Ceri and dancing with her across the room, the girl's enjoyment clear to everyone in the room. It was one of her favourite pastimes, and she did not object it when he aunt flung her up into the air. Helga laughed with the girl and hummed happily and she danced, making Rowena smile in spite of herself.

"Does Ilar know?" she asked.

Helga paused in mid-step, then putting down the girl, sat down by Rowena. "Not yet. I thought I'd surprise him tonight. You know - a special dinner just for the two of us in our quarters, something romantic and magical… I just wanted you to be the first to know, because you are going to be the child's guardian and everything."

"I am?"

"Of course you are! Really, Raven! What kind of thing to ask! Who else could be?"

Rowena just smiled.

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The next three months were a hectic collection of days. The students of the Castle were once again ecstatic to hear of one of their teachers' pregnancy, replaying their behaviour during Rowena's two pregnancies. Ilar could be often spotted walking around the Castle or in the village with a ridiculously silly expression on his face, mirroring his pure delight at being a father soon enough. His brothers all congratulated him repeatedly, often taking him to Calanthe's to celebrate. Helga did not seem to mind, so Rowena grudgingly allowed Godric to join in the festivities. He had often dragged Salazar along with him, but both he and Rowena knew that their friend's heart was simply not in it. He had of course congratulated the expecting parents profusely, but as soon as he turned from then, Rowena could clearly see the tears and anger burning in his eyes.

The women of the village, many now related to the couple via Ilar's many brothers, entered a frenzy of preparing for the baby, gifts from them once again piling in the chambers of Hogwarts.

Sir Rhys, who had often complained that he would get no grandchildren from this son of his, was possibly the happiest of them all, stopping by at the Castle much more often that he had previously.

And in the midst of it all, late into the fourth month of Helga's pregnancy, a guest had arrived at the doors of Hogwarts, covered in a dark cloak, all her belongings in life on the back of a packhorse.

"Rosalind!" Salazar exclaimed as Rowena's mother entered the Entrance Hall, making Rowena whirl around from her place where she was discussing a subject from her lesson with a curious student. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd surprise you all. I'm here for good, children. I left the Glen for the last time," the older woman said with a sad smile. "I couldn't stay there anymore. I wanted to spend a little more time with my family - now that I have a good man who had married my daughter and two wonderful grandchildren. The Glen is just too far off."

Rowena could barely contain the happiness coursing through her at hearing this. She loved her mother dearly and the long years apart had hurt them both more than either woman was prepared to admit. This was all in the past now, however. Now, Rosalind was here and everything could return to being happy and peaceful. Asking the young girl she was speaking with to postpone their discussion to a different time, she walked toward her mother with a bright smile.

"I brought a letter," Rosalind continued in an off-hand manner as she undid the brooch holding her cloak closed, clasping Godric's hand as he approached her. "She was only waiting for her husband to pass away to send it. I don't know how she located me - and she was lucky to find me before I had left - but she begged me to give it to her daughter if I ever see her again. She was not so sure whether it would be welcome or not, but I think she did not so much care about that as much as she cared that it would at least _reach_ her."

Rowena stared at her mother in confusion, not really understanding what the older woman was trying to say. Whose daughter? Who wanted to send a letter to them?

Rosalind, who was now holding a crumpled piece of parchment in her hand, tapped her foot impatiently. "Come now! I'm not going to allow you to ignore it after I have gone to all that trouble to take down what she was dictating! Are you going to read your letter or not, Helga? I want to see my grandchildren!"

**This was it for this time, people! Next update, again, unless circumstances make it impossible, shall be on next Tuesday. If I am on schedule, and everything goes according to plan, this story would last nine more weeks, for I intend on uploading a chapter per week - can you hold that long? ;)**

**Love you all!**

**Star of the North**


	24. Cannot Be Bothered

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Hellooooooooooooooo! Guess what? I'm on time _again_ ((gasps)) I am actually starting to make a habit out of it! Either way, this almost did not make it on time (again, too), because - guess what? Bloody mathematics! I, Star of the North, absolutely _hate_ math! It is the bane of my existence - Geometry in particular. Who invented that thing anyway? So not fair that it means so much in the world…

Other than that, this chapter's a little darker (I think), and features Salazar as the PoV. So now let us see what goes on with our little snake-speaker… watch as Salazar falls deeper into shadow…

Enjoy!

P.S. Once more, thanks to all those to whom I did not have time to reply, or who had not left an email in anonymous reviews!

P.P.S. Forgot to tell you this last time, though it's quite obvious by itself. The victory over Ambrosius was the height of the era, the moment where everything was perfect. From now on the story takes a darker turn, in a way, which cannot be helped. We all know what happened in the end.

**Chapter 23 – Cannot Be Bothered**

_"Accepted legend tells of a certain place within the halls of Hogwarts named the Chamber of Secrets. The legend has been passed on from one generation to another, always receiving a slightly wilder direction or a more romantic embellishment with each telling. It is, after all, the nature of mankind to look for the mystery in things that are sometimes explained quite easily, especially if you know of the existence of magic._

_"The legend tells that after the infamous rift between Godric and Salazar had started to grow, concerning the admittance of Muggle born witches and wizards to Hogwarts, Salazar Slytherin had been so livid that the two other founders had sided with Godric, that in his rage and madness, he created in the bowels of the Castle a secret place where he had conducted experiments of unknown results, experiments in things that should have been left untouched._

_"It is told that before he left Hogwarts in anger, he sealed the chamber in a way that would allow it to open only when his own true heir would arrive at the school. It is also told that there, within that fabled Chamber, lies in wait a horrid monster, which only the heir of Slytherin can unleash and control…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Salazar stood aside as an almost entranced Helga walked towards Rosalind. As she reached her, Rosalind gently put the letter in her hand, a small smile on her lips. Helga did not return the smile, but stared at the crumpled piece of parchment lodged in her hand for the longest time, unable to make herself open it and read the contents.

Salazar completely understood her hesitation. Her parents were the ones who had almost dragged her to the death pyre that ended up being Ryan Ravenclaw's demise. Her parents were responsible to all the hardships she had been forced to endure. Her parents wanted her dead and acted upon that wish, murderous Muggles that they were. How could they kill their own?

After standing there for a long time, Rosalind gently put a hand on Helga's shoulder. When the younger woman looked up fearfully, she smiled at her encouragingly. "Would you like me to read it for you, dear?"

Mutely, Helga nodded, giving her back the letter.

Clearing her throat, Rosalind started reading. "_My dearest daughter, my little Helga,_

"_I ask Madam Ravenclaw to write to you now just after I have stood by your brothers and sisters, watching your father being lowered to the ground. It was inevitable. We had known it would happen soon enough. He had been abusing himself with drink ever since that day, so many years ago when you had escaped the pyre and Master Ravenclaw had taken your place on it. For the past four years your father had been a raving madman, seeing things that were not there and screaming for help that we could not give. I find it surprisingly relieving that he is now gone._

"_Aside of our misfortune in having an invalid in our care for so long, life in the village is quiet as they always had been. Nothing much has changed since your escape from the clutches of death. Your sisters have all long since been married and have families of their own. Your brothers have also found themselves lovely brides and have build themselves homes in Culhwch. You have many nephews and nieces now, Helga, running around the house and the village all the time. Your friends, all of them, are already mothers with big families. I wish you could have seen them._

"_I don't know how things fare with you. I don't know if you have found someone to marry and if you have children of your own. It hurts me to think that I will never be able to know it, because we are separated forever by things that are beyond our control. Madam Ravenclaw has told me that you are a great lady where you now live, and that you commend the respect and love of many. She also said that you are living a good, happy life, though she could not answer my questions concerning your marital state with certainty._

"_Know that even though we have done you so much wrong, I still love you and still wish I had you here with me. That night in which you escaped I rejoiced, for it meant you still had a chance to have a happy life. I am pleased to know that ever since you left the valley you are on that path to happiness._

"_Though I know that you may despise me and wish that I had never asked this message to be passed to you, I love you with all my heart, little one, and always will. Be safe, dear heart, and be happy,_

"_Eternally yours,_

"_Mother._"

Helga stood there, rooted to the spot, and Salazar could see her shoulder trembling. A bittersweet smile on her lips, Rosalind noticed that as well, and enveloped the shaking woman in her arms, soothing her. However, Helga would have none of that. She pulled out of Rosalind's arms and shook her head, backing away.

"No," she muttered repeatedly. "No. Why _now_? Why did it have to come _now_, when I'm finally happy?" Her voice was bitter, and even though Salazar knew this had nothing to do with him, he could not help but feeling pain and resentment at what these words implied. She said it as though she had never been happy back when they were together, and it hurt. It hurt a lot. "Why couldn't she have said it years ago?" Helga continued, still backing away. "Why couldn't she tell me she loved me? She let them take me away, and she did not fight them. After all this bad blood _now_ she tells me she misses me and loves me still? What kind of a demented creature _is_ she?" Tears were now streaming down Helga's cheeks, and her hands moved to protect her growing belly without noticing it.

At that point, Rowena moved to intercept the crying Helga and wrapped her in her arms. This time Helga did not protest. She allowed her friend to give her the support she needed.

Salazar, still resenting the meaning underlining Helga's words but torn inside by the obvious pain the woman was in, approached the two and put a reassuring hand on Helga's shoulder. He did not expect her reaction. He did not expect her to flinch away from his touch as though touched by fire. For a moment he stood there, hand frozen in the air, watching as Helga shrank deeper into Rowena's arms, then, shaking his head, dropped it, and turned to go.

She did not need him anymore, and maybe she never did. A taste of ashes was in his mouth, and his eyes, though he wanted nothing more than crawl into his room and cry like a child, were persistently dry. Walking slowly away, he left them behind, needing to be alone. Someone, however, did not heed his wishes. Footsteps came from behind, brisk and with a no-nonsense rhythm to them. The person behind him soon caught up with him, adjusting their strides to his.

He could see Godric from the corner of his eye, his hands held together behind his back, his face looking straight on. For a while they walked in silence.

"You can't let a moment of pain ruin all good memories of previous years, Salazar," Godric finally said, still not looking at him. "She did not mean that she was not happy with you."

"Yes," Salazar spat. "And how exactly would _you_ know what she is thinking?"

"Admittedly, I cannot read thoughts, but I can read faces, and her face during your years together was the happiest I had ever seen. She was hurt when you left her Salazar, and she may be pushing back the memories of the good times she had had with you. It does not mean that you have to do the same. Helga is an emotional woman, and to stop it from hurting, she stopped thinking of all the time you spent together. You are more logical. You should treasure the time you had with her - if you truly do love her."

"If I loved her, do you think I would have left her?" he said angrily, knowing that he was lying and that Godric _knew_ that he was lying.

"I think you are a coward, Salazar," Godric said bluntly, finally fixing his eyes on Salazar. "You couldn't face what was happening between you and you ran away. It was a mistake, and now you have to pay the price. Do _not_, however, erase the good in what you had from your memory. Cherish it and look on it favourably, and while you're at it, keep the light of friendship between the two of you. It will do you both good."

"You never were good with advice," Salazar snarled and tore away from his friend. He needed to be alone - why could Godric not see that? Almost running, he made his way to his quarters, locking the door securely behind him. The last thing he needed was to be interrupted by do-gooders like Godric who saw it their duty to push themselves into things that were none of their concern. Stupid oaf. He had no idea what he was talking about.

How could she deceive him thus? How could she let him think that she enjoyed every moment with him and then so uncaringly say that she was never happy in his arms? How could _he_ have been so foolish as to believe her act? She had beguiled him, lied to him, and all that because she was too kind to tell him the truth. What a fool he had been for taking her words for truth.

Sitting by the wild fire in his main chamber's grate, he stared at the flames, his mind overtaken by dark thoughts.

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Once it was clear to everyone that Rosalind was truly intending on remaining there, she was invited by dozens of women who had met her on previous visits to come and live with them. After the battle against Ambrosius was won, the community became much tighter and for the ones living there it felt more like a big family than a village, and that made them all keen to help Rosalind fit in. Though Rowena suggested that her mother would stay at the Castle, that they had many rooms to spare, Rosalind gently explained that she needed quiet environment to continue with her various obscure researches and opted to find a place at the village.

After much deliberation, and great insistence from Ceridwen, she had taken one of the now-empty rooms at Sir Rhys' house that had once belonged to his boys, and settled there. She was quite content there, as she had told the four friends repeatedly, having a space of her own and a place to put her books.

Salazar could see that Rowena was doubtful about that, but since the two doting grandmothers were happy to take the children off her hands almost every day while she and Godric were teaching, her opposition to the matter abated.

The birth of Helga's firstborn, a lovely baby girl named Rhian to honour Dahlia's lost child, who had her mother's sunny hair and a sweet disposition, was not accompanied by a grandiose ceremony such as Ryan's, but with a quiet gathering of the family and friends.

The gathering took place in Ilar and Helga's quarters, and the main chamber was almost packed full with Ilar's brothers and their wives and so many others who had somehow found themselves invited. Salazar stood at the very back of the crowd, in the shadow of an ornate column at one corner of the room. There he felt safe. He could not join the celebrators. He felt anything but happy now.

The birth was easy enough and Helga was on her feet in less than a day, and for that he was relieved, but as he saw the little thing held in Ilar's arms right after the birth, he could not help but feel bitter and resentful at the happy father, the sleeping baby and the tired mother. Rhian should have been his. Helga should have been his wife, should have been his to hold. He hated Ilar for taking her and making her the mother of his child.

Even now, three days later, he could not smile even for appearances sake. He just hid his face and the fact that his eyes shone with unshed tears. All the pain and sadness that he had wallowed in since that miserable fallout over a year before now reached an unbearable climax. With a last glance at the happy group gathered around a joyful Helga, he turned his back on them and strode out of the chamber and into the hall. The need to be alone that took over him so often these days came back. When he was halfway down the hall, the door he had closed opened, letting out the sounds of laughter and happy people.

"Salazar! Wait!" Helga called from behind him.

He froze in his tracks, unable to force himself to run, though there was nothing he wanted to do more than to escape her at that very moment.

Then she was next to him, the baby in her arms. She looked up at him, her dark blue eyes deep with worry as she surveyed his face, his pained eyes. "Salazar, why don't you stay?" she asked in a soft voice. "I want you to be happy again. Why can't you smile like you used to?"

"There is no reason for me to smile anymore, Helga," he said in a voice that was barely over a whisper. "I have no place in that world anymore." He nodded at the open door. He looked down at the tiny girl in her arms and carefully he touched a finger to the velvety skin of the newly born's cheek. "She is beautiful," he said. "Just like her mother." And then he walked away, leaving a wide-eyed Helga behind him.

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Slowly, as weeks passed by, Salazar found himself withdrawing more and more from the company of his friends. He no longer felt like he belonged. Godric and Rowena had their own family, Helga and Ilar now had one as well. Both couples lived in the Castle and both had children. He was alone, feeling entirely out of place when he sat with them all during the evenings, watching them touching with shows of affection, or bickering, which was Godric and Rowena's way of saying they loved each other. He watched them in their own worlds, unaware that they were leaving him behind.

They did not mean to keep him outside, to make him feel as though he was no part of their lives anymore. It was just something that they could not help but do. But it hurt. Dear Merlin, it hurt almost more than he could bear. They were together, the four of them, for so long that it was unthinkable that they were not one, functioning unit. It was unthinkable that he was no longer an integral part of the relationships the other three shared.

And so he drew away from them, keeping to his chambers more than he used to, keeping the distance between them. The others noticed his detachment and often attempted to draw him back out. Sometimes they managed it, when Salazar could no longer stand the loneliness of his quarters, but at times they did not.

The harmony at Hogwarts was breaking, but it would be longer still before any of the Hogwarts founders would see that, and when they finally will, it would be far too late.

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_"I cannot _believe_ him!" _Salazar hissed to Maureen one day as he entered his quarters late in the evening. Maureen had been acting a little strangely in the past couple of months, and that morning she had asked to be left in the warm nest of blankets that was her bed while he went to teach. It worried him quite a bit, and after what had happened only a few minutes before, he also missed her soothing words that she always hissed when she saw he was upset. That was why he had started complaining almost as soon as the door shut behind him.

_"What did he do?" _she asked in a low hiss that was unlike the bright tone she usually used. He did not notice at that point, however, only catching the articulation in the hiss that told him she knew he was talking about Godric.

He and Godric had started fighting more often than not these days. It started with Godric's constant commenting on the matter of Helga and Salazar's fallout, continuing with minor bickering on the nature of their systems of teaching and went all the way to full-blown roaring matches over petty matters.

They were both in bad tempers constantly these days, at odds with each other over nothing.

However, what Godric had told them tonight, what he had done without the knowledge of the others, that was too much for Salazar, and this time he knew he was justified in his anger at the infuriating man.

_"What did he do? He went to the country south of here without telling anyone and hunted out Muggle children who have magic. He already approached the parents and somehow - I don't know how - managed to convince them that what their children had was good. They would be coming to Hogwarts in a matter of days! How could he do this without consulting anyone! It was bad enough that we agreed to have that girl Master Cutter so kindly loaded on us! Those Muggle children would ruin _everything_!"_

_"Maybe he had good reason to believe that the children were in danger?" _the snake suggested.

_"If they were in danger he would never have approached the parents, because with those monstrous Muggles the parents are the main danger to them!" _he somehow managed to let the hiss sound like a growl in his anger.

_"But that's not what angers you."_

_"No! It's just that this infuriatingly stupid oaf acted without advising us of his doings! I hate those Muggles and I never want to see another one of them walks in this school! One is bad enough!"_

_"Salazar…" _she hissed very weakly._ "Please try and cooperate with the others. You are such good friends. Don't let it slip through your fingers… please, Salazar. For me."_

It was at this point that he noticed there was something definitely wrong with her. He looked closely at her, noting how dull her normally vibrant skin was, how she lay limp in her nest of blankets, not as alert as she should be in the warm room.

_"Maureen…?" _he said softly, in his mind unsure of what was happening, even though his heart knew better. He kneeled beside her, his face very close to her small body. _"What is wrong with you?"_

_"I am dying, my friend. You know that."_

He shook his head vehemently, trying to delay the inevitable. He had had enough snakes in his past - ever since he was old enough to understand that he could speak to them - to see that she was very close to death and that it was too late to do anything to stop it from happening. He could not believe he had missed the signs.

_"Why didn't you tell me of this earlier?"_ he choked out.

_"Salazar…"_

_"No!"_ he cried in distress, the hissing sounds leaving his mouth harsher than they should have been.

_"My dear Salazar, there is nothing we can do. There is nothing you _could_ have done, even if I did tell you sooner. I have served my time in the world of the living. Each living creature is assigned their own length of life, and I have long since passed my own. The Fates are calling me, Salazar, and as much as I would love to stay, we both know that there is nothing I can do about it."_

_"But… Maureen… you can't leave me like this! I need you…"_

_"You need to be happy, Salazar. That is what you need. Please be happy, my master, my friend. Please be happy."_

_"How can I be happy when I am about to lose you like this?"_

_"I am but an insignificant being, Salazar. Your life _will_ go on without me, whether you wish to believe that or not. You still have your human friends, and by all that you hold sacred, please keep it that way. They are the best companions you could wish for, and if you ever loved me, please respect my final wish and be true to them as they are true to you."_

_"Maureen," _he practically whined, feeling the tears sliding down his face and no longer caring if he showed emotion. She had been there for him for such a long time. He could imagine a life without her. She was his first true snake companion, and thus closer to him than any human, since she was there every step of the way, coiled on his arm. He could not lose her. Not now of all times, when everything around him was falling apart. Not now that all his hopes were in ashes and refused to be rebuilt. He needed her there. He could not let her go.

Out of the silence, Maureen raised part of her body, slithering as fast as she could in her weakened state and coiling herself one last time around his wrist, her head resting on the back of his hand._ "She still loves you, Salazar," _she said in an almost inaudible hiss._ "Remember that."_

_"What-?"_

_"Goodbye, dear friend. Be happy…"_ And with that last hiss, Maureen's long body rattled one last time, and then lay motionless in Salazar's hands.

"Maureen…" he let out a sob.

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When the others saw him the next morning, they knew something was wrong. They met him in the Entrance Hall as they were about to enter the Great Hall for the students' morning meal and he, with a small wooden box in his arms, was about to go outside.

"Salazar?" Rowena asked, tilting her head in question. "What is the matter?" He knew she could see his red-rimmed eyes and the shadows under them.

"Maureen is dead," he said emotionlessly. All emotions he had shown the night before, leaving none for the morning. He felt so empty.

From the corner of his eye he could see Helga raising her hand to her mouth in alarm, and Godric's hand half-reaching to clutch his shoulder. Rowena's face showed sorrow and pity. He could not stand that look.

"I am not teaching today," he told them to the point, his eyes avoiding theirs. "I'm sorry. If you'll excuse me…" He bypassed Rowena and strode away, heading to the grounds.

He buried Maureen on the shore of the lake, just by the bottom of the cliff, where it met the water. He sat there for a long while, not knowing what to feel, not knowing how he should react. He had shed his tears and now there was nothing left in him.

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The first group of Muggle children arrived at Hogwarts two weeks later, their faces awe-struck. Salazar, standing with the other three to greet them, could not help but feel contempt to those children. They knew absolutely nothing about magic and could not help but be weak and worthless. They would probably be unable to cast the simplest of spells. He watched them in disdain as they clumsily climbed the stairs to the front of the Castle and his disgust grew as the other three hurried to help them, welcoming them with smiles.

When the three boys and four girls were discussed in an attempt to decide to which of the four groups they should go, Salazar kept his mouth shut and whenever someone mentioned a quality that he liked best, he only frowned and shook his head. There was no chance that he would allow such creatures to join his group. If the others did not care for the contamination those children would bring, then let _them_ have that ill influence on the others under their care.

"What is the _problem_ with you?" Godric asked scathingly after the children were sent to their rooms. "I know that you are upset over Maureen, but that was no reason to be so rude to those poor things."

"I was not being rude," he said coldly. "I didn't want them under my care and that is it. Leave it alone, Godric. Maureen has nothing to do with it."

"Nonsense!" Godric replied with the same hot tone. "You're so deep into your own misery that you are nasty and uncaring to everyone around you. The snake wasn't your only friend, but you have been acting as though she was the only one! You are ruining everything with your behaviour, Salazar! Get out of it and return to your former self!"

"I am happy the way I am," Salazar growled, abruptly getting up. "I see that I am not welcome here. I bid you goodnight." Then he stormed out, something he found himself doing more often than not these days, but at that precise moment he was far from caring.

Stupid Godric! What an oaf that man was! Ruining everything, indeed. He was the last one to blame of ruining everything.

Tears fell down his eyes, unchecked. He was angry, he was livid. He needed some sort of outlet. Losing Maureen did not help his gradually souring temper and the steadily crumbling bonds of his friendship with Godric. The man was so stubborn and too proud to admit that he was in the wrong. If he would see that _friend_ of his again that day, he promised himself he would not be held accountable to his deeds.

He needed to be alone, and nowhere in the huge Castle was enough.

The others just did not understand what he was going through. They had experienced pets' deaths before and so they did not fully comprehend why he was taking this so badly. But how could he explain to them how much Maureen had meant to him? She was his constant companions for so long, always there with a sarcastic comment ready, a compassionate hiss or a blunt rebuff when he had strayed out of line. She was a friend to him, an advisor and a conscience. She was family.

But they did not understand. Even Godric, who had spent so much time with him in the past, long before they had met either woman, did not realize it. He had patted Salazar's back consolingly on the evening he had returned from her makeshift burial, and advised him to get a new snake to replace Maureen. How could he even _suggest_ that? Doing that would show so much contempt to the memory of Maureen.

Walking out of the Castle, he stormed down to the shore of the lake, soon enough finding himself beside the place where Maureen was put to rest. He stood by it, staring at the cliff face and how it met the water. He did not want this open space at the moment. He wanted a dark, dank space into which he could crawl and wallow in his endless misery until all emotion had left him, leaving him numb and cold.

As though hearing his wishes, his eyes met with a ledge in the cliff face, and above it, an opening. A thin, almost invisible opening, but one all the same. From where he was standing, he estimated it would be quite enough. But how to get there?

The ledge was much too high for him to reach and climb. He would have to find handholds in the rocks that were part of the cliff. Making sure his wand was safely in place, he took a firm hold on a jutting piece of rock and started pulling himself up, every time looking for hand and foot holds. It was a long and dangerous climb, and he knew, as he angled his climb, that if he was to fall, he would break his neck with the force of the drop into the water and the rocks at the cliff base which were hidden under the deceptively smooth water. Ignoring those doubts, he concentrated on the climb.

His boots sliding on loose rubble that fell from the top of the cliff and accumulated on the protruding tiny ledges his feet were bracing themselves on, Salazar strained his fingers' grip on the sharp rocks. The crack in the cliff face was just above him, and he was not about to give up at this point. He felt the jagged rock slicing into the skin of his fingers once more and knew that his hands would be bloody when he would finally reach the opening, but he was far from caring. He needed to be alone. He needed a tight, closed space, and that crack was just that.

With a last grunt of effort, he managed to pull himself unto the minuscule ledge that was under the crack in the rock. He brushed his bloodied hands on the sides of his robes, wincing slightly as the coarse cloth rubbed against the open wounds. Taking a deep breath and lighting his wand, he squeezed through the opening and into the darkness beyond.

He walked for a while in the narrow passageway, often having to duck his head or bend his entire back as the ceiling of the passage changed heights. The walls pressed on his shoulders, and even though on normal occasions he would have found the closed space somewhat uncomfortable and even panicking, this time it was comforting and reassuring. All he now needed was a small opening big enough for him to sit and think.

It came to him as a complete surprise when, almost an hour later, he came upon an opening that was not big enough for him to sit, but big enough to house the great hall itself. He stood in the opening, some three men's height above the bottom of the shadowy cavern lit in the light of his wand, gaping at the space in front of him.

The first thought that had pressed itself through his empty mind, was that it looked like a ceremonial temple. It had a long empty aisle at its center, leading to a huge block of rock at the other end. To either side, natural rock formations created what almost looked like pillars and the echoes running through it as he climbed down to the ground were immense, reverberating through him again and again.

As he examined one of the pillar-like formations, for a moment it almost looked to him as though there was a snake coiled about the rock. The next moment, however, it was gone.

Then it struck him. He would make this place a memorial to Maureen. This would be his personal place to remember her and appreciate the wonderful companion that she had been. Now much happier and content than he had been in the past few weeks, he continued to explore the cave, wishing to see it all before he would start his work.

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Salazar returned late that night to the Castle, in a very good mood. What he had seen in the cavern satisfied him, and he was delighted in creating this private space of which no one would ever know. He was friendly to Godric that evening, which surprised the other man, but was accepted all the same as an apology.

Early on the next free day he had left for his cavern, a quickly scrawled plan on a parchment in his pocket. He would make the cavern into the most wondrous place anyone had ever seen.

Upon reaching the cavern Salazar examined the huge rock jutting out of the cave's wall, and doubt crept into his mind. He had meant this place to be a shrine to commemorate his beloved companion, but to create her likeness on a rock this big as he had planned and sketched seemed somehow wrong all of a sudden. Maureen was a caring little creature. She was shy and loving and disliked the company of many. To make her this ostentatious monument would contaminate his memories of her.

But then… was there not another who had deserved commemorating and who had received nothing for all he had done? The thought appeared in his mind unbidden.

Salazar Slytherin knew now whose would be the features that will grace the surface of that rock. It would not be Maureen, who was too precious for that, but of a person he had never really known but still loved fiercely.

"_Come to me, my father. Come to your son,_" he whispered, his voice hoarse, his eyes gleaming and his wand rising up to the air. Graceful hands twirled and wove in and out, moving the wand hither and thither.

In front of him, out of the crude, cold stone, a shape began to form, hazy at first, but slowly clearing, its features sharpening. Before nightfall he would have his monument prepared. A monument for he who had done so much to protect Muggles from the unknown, while receiving nothing in return. A whole lifetime wasted over those unworthy creatures who had taken so many lives out of pure spite and malice.

Were he in his right mind, Salazar surely would have realized how ridiculous his thoughts were, but in his grief and pain, nothing seemed to make sense. Everything, from Rhiannon's death, to Maureen's passing to his father's own accidental demise, turned in his mind an accusing finger at the Muggles.

Oh, how he hated those lowly creatures!

He turned his attention back to his work. With a swirling motion, a protruding shelf of rock high above him received the likeness of a nose. Another, stabbing motion made a hollow to one side, and a second made its twin to the nose's other side. Two circling gestures pulled out eyes from the hollows and a sweeping motion downwards created a long, thin beard that almost reached the floor of the mighty chamber. Slowly, meticulously, and painstakingly, the likeness of Searlas Slytherin took shape in the grandiose rock.

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As months passed, Salazar divided his free time between making his secret chamber under the cliff of Hogwarts look like a chamber and not like a cavern, and observing the Muggle students who had now strode in the halls of Hogwarts as though they owned the place.

It infuriated him to no end. The way they strutted about was an affront to him and to all those who were born to the magic. They had no right to be there - no right at all. They were mere Muggles - not even educated ones. They had to be taught everything from the very beginning. They could not even read and write.

To make things worse, the other three fawned over them. Helga he could understand - being almost like those children herself she wanted them to stop being Muggles like she had stopped in her time, but he could not understand the enthusiasm Rowena and Godric showed every time they told him about this or that accomplishment of this or that Muggle child. He could not understand it and he could not bear it. It was beneath them to help such lowly creatures, such filth. They should realize that soon enough and then they would have to get rid of them as he had said in the very beginning.

But as more time passed, the Muggles had rooted their venomous presence in the school, and the more they succeeded, the more the others flattered them and loved them. It soon became apparent to him.

He would have to take care of them himself, unaided.

There had to be a way to rid the school from the troublesome existence of the Muggle children, he thought fervently, his eyes narrowing and his brow wrinkled in thought. What could he do to get them to disappear for ever, to never return to Hogwarts? Multitudes of plans flashed in his feverish mind, dismissed almost as soon as they had occurred to him.

He could poison them all, of course, but then, in a few years it would only be attributed to sensitivity to some substance and then they would return, not to mention that it could hurt children of purely magical blood; he could hex them all into oblivion, but that would be too obvious and it would get him in trouble with the others; he could concoct some sort of curse that would only take effect during the summer when the children were away, but then, he was never very good with inventing spells - that was always Rowena's specialty.

Then what could he do? It would have to be something that only he could trigger, but then - what were his talents? He could draw, but drawn curses were weak and would not complete the job properly, let alone make the Muggles stay away.

It took him several days to figure out the answer to that, and when he did, he almost started laughing that he had not thought of it earlier.

He was the only one in the Castle who could speak to snakes.

The next few months were dedicated to pure research. He withdrew to his chambers and only rarely left them. He stopped sitting with the others in the evenings and almost never joined them for dinner at the Great Hall, opting to dine alone so that he could continue his research. The others gave him strange glances and tried to talk him out of his solitude for a while, but soon they gave up, thinking he was not completely over the death of Maureen, even though it had happened so long before. They left him alone to his own devices, which was exactly what he had wanted.

Squinting over texts hundreds of years old, he had formed his plan. He would be able to rid his school of the filthy Muggle children who would strive to ruin it all and in such a clean way that no one would be able to say otherwise. After all, he would be in control the whole time and therefore there will be no unnecessary demises. It was a brilliant plan, an infallible plan. Now all he had to do was create the right circumstances.

In the dark recesses of his chamber, under the mighty shadow of his father, he brought together all he needed. A purple-spotted, acid-green toad with poison smoothing its skin and a single, large chicken's egg was all that was required. The toad he had spent days searching for in the beast-infested forest next to the Castle. There were many poisonous toads there, but he wanted a specific one, the most venomous of them all. It was his assumption that the more poisonous the toad, the more poisonous would be the offspring that would hatch from the egg.

Ah… what a wonderfully deceptive thing a simple chicken's egg could be, he thought gleefully. He had pilfered it from the chicken coop only that morning before everyone was awake, wanting it to be as fresh as possible. He had almost broken it twice on his way to his safe harbour, and nearly touched his bare skin to the toad three times.

In his meticulous way, he placed a nest he had woven out of straw on the cold rock beneath the statue of his father, then padding it with the soft, warm cloth that had been a part of Maureen's bed for so many years, thinking it was fitting. He moved the makeshift nest a few times from place to place, contemplating the best angle in which to settle it for the long process of hatching. Finally satisfied, he placed the egg with care at the center of the nest, snuggling it carefully with the thick fabric.

Then, with his wand, he floated the toad out of its improvised cage and settled it on top the egg, muttering the spell that would make sure it would not shift until the time of the emerging would come.

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Salazar knew that his attempt would take a long time. The ancient writers of the texts he had gone through before putting his plans into action were not very precise on the time the hatching would take. They seemed more interested in what would come out of the egg and how it could be used to their own purposes. They were not systematic about writing the facts, and only mentioned the creation process in passing. It had frustrated him to no end at the time, but as watched the egg three times a week, he was excited to see the change in it in every visit. Every time he observed it he thought it looked bigger, its shell darker and more poisonous in colour. Things were going according to plan.

On the night the alert spell he had designed to inform him when the development came to an end with Rowena's unknowing help, for it was designed after her own baby-anxiety alarm spell, activated, he was sitting for the first time in months with the others on their evening relaxation. It surprised the three of them greatly, but they were genuinely happy to see him there.

"You're smiling again," Rowena remarked at his good mood.

"I suppose I'm just happy," he replied, for the first time in weeks if not months feeling a pang of guilt at hiding things from them. "Good food, good company - what can I ask for more?"

"Nothing, I guess," she said, but her eyes narrowed, and he realized that he had neglected them all for a long while.

"Salazar," Helga said timidly, "you've been very… reclusive of late. And you're distracted a lot of the time, _and_ you go out for walks so many times these days. Is there anything… wrong?"

Forcing himself to smile at her, inside he seethed. She wanted to know what was wrong with him? What could _possibly_ be wrong? He absolutely detested the way she so easily dismissed what they had not too long ago. She was acting friendly, as though they had never loved each other, as though she had never loved anyone before that wretched Ilar. On the other hand, he was rather wary now that he knew they all noticed his long absences. In those past months he deluded himself that they did not notice it, or dismissed it as the last steps of getting over Maureen, but now he was more than a little on edge. What if one of them had followed him? What if they knew what he was up to? He could not allow that to happen.

He was about to respond, since all three of them were looking at him curiously, waiting for his reply, but almost as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, a great shudder went up his spine, clearly visible to the others.

"Salazar!" Godric cried, bolting out of his chair and leaning over him. "Are you all right? Do you need us to call for-"

"No!" Salazar raised his hands to push his friend away. "N-no. I don't need you to call anyone, Godric. Please calm down. I must have caught a cold or something like that in my walks outside. It is a foul weather, after all. No, I will just go to bed early tonight and hope for a better day tomorrow. Goodnight." With that he got up hastily, pretending to have a headache and sniffing to prove his point. As soon as he was out of the room, closing the door on the others' stunned faces, he only barely suppressed the need to shout out loud his exultance. The alarm spell ignited! It was not as subtle as Rowena's, and so it was noticeable to the others, but he did not care. All he cared about was find his way into the chamber as quickly as possible and watch the final stages of his greatest work.

Not even bothering to attempt stealth in his excitement, he took the most direct route to the entrance of the chamber, singing triumphantly inside.

As he entered his secret place, he could immediately see the change. The place where the toad was sitting atop the nest was usually deep in shadow, sheltered between the mighty legs of the statue at the end of the cavern. This time, however, the toad seemed to emanate bright, sickly-green light.

Walking slowly and deliberately he neared the nest and the toad on top of it, his face awed. He could almost not believe he was finally seeing the fruits of his labour. His mind almost did not accept the sight his eyes were seeing. It was finally here. After all that time. It was here.

He watched the egg as it began shuddering beneath the toad, and for the first time in years, his eyes shone as they used to before Helga left him to be in another's arms. This would be his child. His own creation and only his. Godric would learn how wrong he was, allowing so many those of Muggle heritage walk the almost sacred halls of Hogwarts. They would all learn. His child would take care of that.

His child, his creation, his little wonder that would cleanse the halls of Hogwarts. His Basilisk.

The spark in his dark eyes turned into a glint of madness.

**Okay, so I _know_ JKR probably meant the statue in the Chamber of Secrets to be of Salazar himself and not of his father, but the description of the statue in CoS does not resemble in the slightest to _my_ Salazar (my fault, admittedly), so I warped the facts a little bit. Forgive me?**

**So! Seven more chapters to go - or something like that… next update would be next Tuesday, unless something comes up. I hope it doesn't because I kind of like being on time…**

**Hugs and kisses to everyone!**

**- Star of the North**


	25. Never Together

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** On time again! Though once more, it was a close miss.

On this chapter… things sour even more for our friends at Hogwarts - what can be done? Also, this chapter does a big leap in time - a few years. The ages of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw children should clue you in.

One other thing. This chapter has another death in it. While I can guess that you grow tired of deaths in this story, I have to remind you that time is running away in this tale - months and years passing in a single chapter, and that many of the characters playing part here are not as young as they sometimes seem. Let me just reassure you, and tell you that this death is _not_ plot-driven, but a closure to someone's only partially told story - so please don't be sad.

Again, dark, emotion-filled chapter, and a bit shorter than usual at that, but I hope you will enjoy it all the same.

**Chapter 24 – Never Together**

_"While we do not know what had caused Salazar to finally snap after all those years and leave the school, we may presume that in part it had to do with the gradual cooling of relationships between Slytherin and Hufflepuff in the years preceding his departure. Helga Hufflepuff, as one born of Muggle lineage could possibly had represented some sort of forbidden connection that clashed violently with his opinions on those of Muggle descent._

_"Though records are scarce, we know that Helga and Salazar had had many an argument over the last few years of the four's joint heading of the school and that more often than not Godric had supported Helga, causing a deep rift between the former friends. It is to be questioned then, how it is that Slytherin had agreed to the partnership to begin with, knowing full-well that Helga Hufflepuff was born to Muggles…"_

**-Hogwarts, A History; Author Unknown**

It had been a very long day. Helga was extremely tired and she wanted nothing better than to go to her quarters and spend a pleasant evening with Ilar and the children. Rhian and Heddwyn were getting so big now, and with Rhian running all over the place, not to speak of wreaking havoc around the rooms with Ceri, who was already six and just as overactive as her older brother, who, at eight, leaned in the direction of practical jokes, leaving two very exasperated parents to fix the mess he had caused every time anew. Sometimes she did not know how Godric and Rowena managed those two balls of energy.

And so, even though she wanted to go and be with her family, there was still one more thing she needed to do before turning in for the night, and she was less than enthusiastic to do it.

Therefore evening found her pacing before the door to Rowena and Godric's quarters, unable to make herself go in and face her friend. She simply could not do it. It would ruin the older woman. She just _knew_ it would. Rowena was such a sensitive person, even though she hid it well most of the time. She would be so hurt to hear her news. Helga was sure of it.

She just did not know how to tell Rowena that she and Ilar were expecting a third child.

For the first couple of months she managed to hide it from her friend, but soon enough she would start showing and it would become clear that she was no longer nursing little Heddwyn. She had seen the hidden pain in her friend's eyes when the midwife had informed them all that it had been another clean and easy birth and that Helga should not have any problems being with child again - in fact, that in the health state she was in, she could probably conceive many more times. She did not want to open that gaping wound in Rowena's heart once more. She just could not do it.

Her greatest fear, she had to admit, more than losing Rowena's friendship, was that the stubborn woman would attempt having another child against all warnings, and that it would kill her. Helga remembered only too well the loud fights Rowena used to have with Godric after Ceri had been born. They all ended with Rowena crying in Godric's arms. Seeing those memories again, her determination to share her news with Rowena faltered, but she knew it had to be done. She wanted no ill feelings between the two of them, not after what she could see was happening for the past few years between Godric and Salazar - once great friends, and now begrudging companions.

And so, taking a deep, steadying breath, she gingerly opened the door to the quarters behind. Normally she would have knocked to alert them of her arrival, but this time she was too nervous for simple acts of civility. The main chamber was empty, but she knew that at this time of day, when she had free time, Rowena opted to bring her children into her cosy drawing room, where the setting sun hit the windows and brought golden light into the room.

As expected, she indeed found the other woman in there, sitting on the hearthrug in front of the fire, using her time off to play a game of throwing a ball of tied rags with Ryan and Ceri. Though she often said that the children were perhaps getting too old for these games, the two were simply delighted in spending a bit of time with their mother that she could not help but agree to play with them.

"Hello, Raven," Helga said with false cheerfulness as she entered the room. "Enjoying your afternoon?"

"Very much. Play without me for a while," Rowena said, throwing the round object to Ryan, and then, taking her seat on a padded chair, looked up quizzically at Helga. "What's bothering you so much? You've been acting shifty for a while now."

Helga winced. She did not know she was being so transparent. Rowena was waiting, the children playing by themselves as told for a change. Taking a deep, rattling breath, she looked down at her feet and rushed it out. "I'm with child. Two months now." She did not dare looking up at Rowena.

Her friend sighed. It was a sad, mourning sigh and Helga realized that she had accepted the situation. "I thought it would be that. It's the only subject you're afraid of discussing with me. Do you think it would be a boy again?"

Surprised, Helga looked up to meet Rowena's sad smile.

"I got over it a long time ago, Helga," she said softly, in a voice that would not carry all the way to her children. "I have two wonderful - if energetic - children, and a wonderful man who loves me with all his heart. I would be lying if I was to tell you that I do not regret not having more children, but I am not going to kill myself over it. You need not worry. This is the reason behind your hesitation, is it not?"

Helga's eyes widened. It always perplexed her that Rowena could read people so easily. In fact, it was much more than perplexing. It was practically frightening. She never could get the knack of it. Seeing that Rowena was waiting for her to confirm her question, she gave her a twisted smile. "You know you're right, Raven. So, I was wrong?"

As Rowena nodded, Helga felt a wave of relief coursing through her body. Now she could share everything with her friend without remorse or fear. Now grinning widely, she settled down on a chair opposite of Rowena and said "I think it'd be a boy again - but don't tell Ilar. I don't want him to develop expectations so soon…"

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After getting over the excitement of having yet another baby, Helga started once again to notice that things were not as they should be at Hogwarts Castle. The relationship between Godric and Salazar was at a new low. The two could barely stand being at the same room for more than a few minutes, and she had no idea what had happened to make it so.

First she thought it was because Salazar started keeping to himself so much - something which was partly her fault, she knew - but it was more than that. It was as though Salazar had completely changed, and that Godric did not want to see it happen. In his fight to preserve his friend, it became obvious that there was no turning back anymore, and that the more he fought, the worse the rift between them became.

The resentment between the two became so profound, that their students began treating each other more coldly than before. It was as though they attempted to be like their admired teachers, and therefore copied their patterns of behaviour towards each other. And to her it seemed like a huge wall had been erected in the school, cutting it in half. Rowena, too, noticed it, and worriedly tried to speak with both her husband and Salazar, receiving nothing but indifferent shrugs for all her efforts. The two did not even _try_ mending their friendship anymore, and the two women could do nothing but watch helplessly as their growing rivalry tore Hogwarts apart.

It was so gradual at first, that they did not see it coming, and when it _did_ come, it was already too late to stop it. Their dream was slowly falling apart around them and their male counterparts did not seem to care. All they cared about was their growing dislike to one another and who would get the upper hand in every given argument.

"I wonder if things would ever be the same as they were," she told Rowena one day as the women sat in Helga's quarters with Ceri labouring over her letters in the corner.

"What things, Aunt Helga?" the little girl asked, glad of a distraction from her work.

"Oh, things," she said airily, patting her growing body with a smile, though she could see Rowena understood what she meant.

"Go back to work, dear," the auburn-haired woman told her daughter. "Let Aunt Helga and I speak, all right?"

"Yes, Mama," the girl said obediently, but from the snort Rowena gave, and from her own experience, she knew that Ceri was listening closely while pretending to work.

"Things can never return to the way they were," Rowena said. "You know that, Helga. Time is ever-flowing, and there is nothing either of us can do to stem it. Just like our children are growing so quickly on us and our youth dissipates. Where did close to two decades go? Would you go back to what we had then? A boring life in a small house in the Glen? You have to take the good with the bad - no matter _how_ bad it is."

Helga knew all that, and she also knew that she would never have gone back to Caerwyn Valley had she been offered the chance. That chapter in her life had long since closed. She would not have given up what she had now for the world, but still. There were always those regrets that one could not help but have. These were nagging thoughts that would often rear their ugly head and make her think that if she would have done _this_, then _that_ would not have happened.

She had many of those, and she did not doubt that Rowena had had her share of them as well, but then again, her friend was always better at hiding things - sometimes, anyway. She could rarely hide anything from Helga, who had known her longest than anyone else but Rosalind.

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Helga and Ilar's third child was a boy. A golden-haired, blue-eyed boy whom they named Albin, after Helga's brother whom she would never see again. The first time Ceridwen had seen him, she looked from him to his proud grandfather, back to him and back to the beaming Sir Rhys, and then started laughing.

Upon being asked what was so funny, she barely stemmed her laughter long enough to say that "the poor boy is going to get your nose, old friend," and then collapsed, laughing again.

As a peace offering, Helga convinced Ilar to offer the post of male guardian to the brooding Salazar, who, surprised as he was, agreed. Though this act had pacified the fourth Hogwarts headmaster for a while, it was only a temporary thing, and Helga knew it all too well. While he seemed to enjoy playing with the child, there was something in his eyes every time he looked at the boy that made Helga rather uncomfortable. She made sure never to leave Albin alone with him.

Things remained in a standstill for a while. Though Salazar did not change his views on Godric and vice versa, the ill feelings between them did not escalate into a full-out war as a morose Rowena had predicted late into Helga's pregnancy. As a matter of fact, she was just commenting about it and raising the notion that maybe things _can_ be mended between them when one of Rhys' boys, Haul, who had replaced his brother as the family's runner between village and Castle after Ilar's wedding, ran into them, falling to the floor with the force of the impact.

"S…so sorry," he mumbled, picking himself from the floor. Upon seeing who he had bumped into, his expression sobered. "Mistress Ravenclaw," he said in a somber voice. "Your presence is requested at the village - immediately."

"I was just about to retire," Rowena said, frowning. "Is it urgent?"

"Very," Haul mumbled, not quite meeting her eyes. "Please, Mistress Ravenclaw. You _must_ come."

"Very well," Rowena said. "Tell Godric where I've gone?" she then asked Helga.

Helga shook her head. "No. I get the feeling I should come with you - just to be on the safe side, and all."

"Be on the 'safe side'?" Rowena asked in amusement as they followed a twitchy Haul to the village.

"I don't know, 'Wena," she sighed. "I just have a bad feeling about it is all."

It took her less than a second to see that she was right as they entered Sir Rhys' house and saw the somber faces of all the people in there. Most of them were Knights of the Phoenix, but many were women from the village, whose eyes filled with tears upon seeing Rowena entering the house. Without allowing said woman time to digest what was going on, Haul led them to the room where Helga knew Rosalind resided ever since coming to the village. Her heart fell. It did not look good.

Rosalind was in her bed when they entered, her long-since white hair flowing free of its usual bindings, framing her frail face. She looked so weak that Helga felt like crying. She looked nothing like the Rosalind who had practically brought her up. Then, however, at seeing the two women entering her room, she smiled, and the smile lit her tired face, making her look more like herself.

"Hello, my darlings," she greeted them, spreading her hands out for them to come near.

Glancing sideways at Rowena, Helga saw nothing but a closed expression. She could not read her this time. She could not see whether she realized what was going on or not. Either way, Rowena approached her mother and gently kissed her cheek. Helga followed her example, adding as tight a hug as she dared. Rosalind felt so fragile in her arms. Then she took a sit next to Rowena and the two of them watched Rosalind as she appeared to be deep in thought.

"I can see that you both understand why I asked Rowena here," she finally said, and her voice countered her appearance, still strong and clear as it always was. "And I am glad that you have come as well, Helga. Otherwise I would not have been able to say goodbye."

"Mother-" Rowena began, her voice in tight control.

"No, dear," Rosalind stopped her with a brisk movement of her thin hand. "You are not here to talk. Not yet. Let me say my goodbyes properly."

"But, Mother-!"

"Rowena. You knew this day is coming the moment I stepped into the Castle a few years ago. You knew very well that I have come because I wanted to spend the time I planned to have left with you and your family. You knew that I would not leave the house your father had built for us for any other reason; please don't try to deny it."

Helga cast an alarmed look in Rowena's direction. She never thought that was the reason behind Rosalind's arrival, but as she studied her friend's face, she realized that Rosalind spoke true and that Rowena had known all this time. She felt appalled at this, not believing that Rowena had kept this knowledge quite for all this time, showing no emotion, showing no sign that she did.

"My lovely daughter," Rosalind continued gently. "I only stayed long enough to see both you and my dear Helga settled for good with families of your own and men who would care for you just as my Ryan had taken care of me. I miss him so terribly, Rowena, you _must_ see that." And at that Helga was surprised to hear Rosalind's voice crack. This was one of the strongest women she had ever known, and she could not believe how well she had disguised her pain at losing her beloved husband who had sacrificed so much for her and who had died undeservingly by the hands of Helga's own village's people.

"I know," Rowena whispered. "I don't want you to go."

Rosalind smiled again and reached for her daughter, who, unresistingly, allowed her to pull her from the chair and into her mother's arms. "I know you don't want to say goodbye, love, but this is how life goes, and you know it - better than most, I would say. You have gone through so much, but you have a caring man who loves you at your disposal. Please let me go and see mine once again. Please, Rowena. I could not go peacefully without knowing that you will forgive me this selfish choice."

Rowena buried her face in her mother's shoulder, her arms involuntarily hugging the old woman. "I don't want you to go, Mama," she said again, this time reverting to that childhood appellation.

Rosalind stroked her hair and looked at Helga sadly.

Helga did not know how long they had sat there, Rosalind patting Rowena's head, and she looking at them, but finally Rowena rose, and, still hugging her mother with one arm, recomposed herself and, wiping her tears, said "I know you want to go, Mama, and though I don't _want_ you to go, there's nothing I can do to stop it, now can I? Tell Father that I miss him?"

"I will, love. I promise you that I will."

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It was a sad day in the Castle and in the village. Madam Rosalind Ravenclaw, distinguished researcher in the community, mother, grandmother and beloved friend, had died in her daughter's arms. It was a tragedy to many of those who had learned to know her in her short stay at the Loch and the Knights who had known her when she had been a young woman, but not at all unexpected. She had often said that she was glad having seen the end of the person who was responsible for her husband's death and that her life was now complete.

As she was committed to the ground, many people had gathered around the freshly dug grave. People from all over the Isles came to wish her a final farewell. There were so many people there who had never met her, but had heard her name spoken so many times over the years in context to Hogwarts and the fables Knights of the Phoenix and their leader, Raven Lord. The still-living Knights of the Phoenix streamed into the Loch to say their farewells to the woman they had known so well and respected so much.

Helga stood by the other Hogwarts residents and while she had her own pain to contend with, she was more worried about Rowena. Her friend was standing beside Godric, one of her hands clutching his hand in a rather painful fashion it appeared, and the other was tightly holding unto Ceri's shoulder. The little girl was holding on to her mother's skirt and to her brother's hand. Three of the four had tears in their eyes. Rowena's eyes were dry and empty. Her expression was vacant as well, as she watched the fresh grave being filled. She had not cried since Rosalind died the day before. She had not said anything, and it was worrying Helga very much.

"Shock," Ceridwen whispered that evening, closing the door to the drawing room behind her, meeting the eyes of all those who waited in the main chamber. The concerned friends exchanged glances at that. None of them knew what to do.

Ceridwen was right, Helga sadly surmised. Rowena was so deep into her own world, that nothing could extract her out of it. Her mother's death caught her by surprise and shocked her into this stasis. She just stared ahead now, sitting by the fire in the next room. Not even her children's need to be comforted themselves could stir her anymore. It was so unlike her, and no one knew how to snap her out of this state. They were afraid for her, but she would not let them help.

The next couple of weeks were hard on the small family of the Founders. It was hard to function without Rowena, for she was responsible for all the small, technical details that made the place tick. None of them had noticed how this had happened, but it did. She was just best at it, and so they left it to her, not realizing how dependent they were on her. It even got to a point where Godric and Salazar got over their differences and worked together in their attempts to get Rowena out of the protective shell she had gotten herself into.

As for Helga, she knew better than to interfere. Aside of the fact that she was confident that Rowena would pull out on her own, she thought it was good for the two friends to renew their old relationship and mend the problems of the past. She realized that she may be a little too optimistic about it, but she could not help it, seeing how friendly they were to each other when in Rowena' presence.

That was not to say that she was not worried for her friend. Rowena barely ate anything during that time, and each time she came by to visit the older woman looked thinner and paler. She also spent most her time in bed, staring at the ceiling aimlessly. She did not read and she did not talk. She did not do anything but look with tired, puffy eyes as they all tried their best to make her feel better.

Then, late one evening, Helga and Ilar made their way to Rowena and Godric's quarters. They were already at the door when Helga heard Rowena's voice ringing in the room beyond.

"What do you mean you haven't practiced your letters? Ceri, you _know_ how important this is to me! How could you neglect it so? Come now, I'll help you with it. Were did you find trouble?"

Exchanging glances with her husband, Helga smiled. It sounded like Rowena was back to her former self. She sounded so confident and calm. Knocking softly on the door, she found herself face to face with a grinning Godric.

"I see that she pulled out on her own," she said lightly. "Just as I said she would."

"You were right," he said, not even bothering to mask his delight. "She just got out of bed an hour ago and started berating Ryan for eating sloppily again and now started on Ceri and her letters. Come in, come in."

He let them in, and the first thing Helga noted upon entering, was that Rowena, though still drawn and pale, looked more like herself again, passionate about teaching and impatient as ever. She was sitting with Ceri by the fire, writing on a piece of parchment and showing her what she did wrong. When she heard Helga's footsteps, she looked up and gave her a sad sort of smile.

"I'm all right," she told her without Helga needing to ask. "I'm all right."

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When the year started, there were two more Muggle-born children who had arrived at the Castle. They were the first to arrive ever since Godric's ill-fated journey to the land south of the Castle and the sad results it had caused, bringing his and Salazar's relationship to where it was now. They were shy and timid, unsure of where they had arrived. Helga, compassionate and friendly as she was, hurried to greet them before the rest would, and did her best to reassure them that they would have the time of their lives in Hogwarts.

This, of course, would probably have gone much better were it not for Salazar. The tall, dark man looked once at the children, realized that they were not of magic blood and without a word turned his back on them and strode off, an unpleasant sneer on his thin face.

Helga could not believe him. Even though she knew his views on the matter of Muggles as a whole and Muggle-born students in particular, she could not believe the way he had acted, so cold and aloof. He was so horrible to them, conveying in one, disgusted look how much he despised them. And they were so young. They did not deserve to be treated that way - condemned even before they had had the chance to prove themselves.

Determined, she asked Salazar later that day if he would meet her that evening at their sitting room on the ground floor, then asking Rowena to keep away and take Godric with her. She did not need audience for what she had in mind.

And so, that evening, with baby Albin in her arms, for he was still too young to be left alone with only his father, she waited at the sitting room, anxiously hoping that Salazar would keep his word and come as promised. He did not disappoint her.

"Evening," he said civilly, though she could see that familiar unpleasant emotion passing in his eyes as he glanced at the golden-haired boy in her arms. She tightened her grip on her child, afraid of what it might mean. It had been a long time since she last could read Salazar's mind easily. He was a closed book to her nowadays, and she was scared of what it could mean.

"Good evening, Salazar," she returned, gesturing him to take a seat. When he did, she immediately started talking, not giving him a moment to stop her. "I asked you here because I wanted to tell you that your behaviour this morning was entirely unacceptable. These are children you behaved so condescendingly to and they did not deserve it from anyone, let alone you. They were afraid, Salazar - do you even _remember_ what it is like to be this afraid. They are strangers in an unknown place, and you just made it worse with your entire manner. I will not have it! Your group may be your business and you can decide that you don't want Muggle children in there, but you have no right to act that way towards them just because you are so prejudiced! I will _not_ let you do this! Not to them and not to yourself!"

For a while he regarded her from under lowered eyelashes, but from what she could see, he was far from pleased, and on the verge of being very, very angry. Then he raised his eyes and what she could see in them frightened her more than everything Ambrosius had put them all through years before. They were devoid of emotion. They were empty and cold. When he spoke, it was in a tone that mirrored anger and even hate. "What I do and do not do, is none of your business," he said. "You will never be able to understand just how much I hate Muggles and the offspring they spawn with magic in them. It is abnormal and should be eradicated from the face of this earth.

"They are here against my will and I would do all in my power to make them run away from this place never to return. They have no place here and no right to attend this school. They should be left for their precious Muggles and burn at the stake for all I care. They are filthy little Muggles and that's all they'll ever amount to be! Do you understand that, Helga? Do you?"

"How can you say that when _I_ am one of them," she seethed.

"I tried to tell you once that you were different," he growled, all control of emotion gone. "I tried to tell you that - but you threw it in my face! That was the worst thing you could have done, as far as I was concerned - and you had done it! That has confirmed all my worst suspicions of the Muggle race and solidified my opinion that all those of them who attempt to penetrate _our_ society should be rid of immediately!"

"You were never this way when we were young!" she shrieked, holding her youngest child close to her breast protectively and getting up from her chair. "What kind of foolishness it this!"

"How _dare_ you call me foolish!" Salazar spat. "I would have given you _everything_, Helga! I would have loved you more than anything! You could have been my queen and have had my eternal love!"

"You never said! You never said a thing! You said you didn't love me! We agreed that it would be better for us to remain friends! You pushed me away! You practically threw me into Ilar's arms! I _loved_ you, Salazar, but you were the one to keep away!"

"If you loved me then you wouldn't have agreed!"

"I thought that would have made you happy! But now I see that I was wrong - you turned into a bitter man who takes his frustrations out on those poor Muggle-born children! Well, guess what, Salazar Slytherin! I'm happy with Ilar and I hate _you_!" Her baby started wailing and she turned away.

"You are, are you?" he hissed, so close behind her that she was almost surprised they were not touching. "Happy being that swine's wife and spouting his spawn every other year? Well, then. You deserve that, Helga. You could have had the world and this is what you have chosen. Think of it when you are old, fat and wrinkled, and your husband starts looking at other women, because you are like an old, stretched hag. Think of it then, and remember all that you could have had."

She heard him striding away and the door slamming closed behind him. Only then did she sit back down heavily, holding tightly to the crying Albin and feeling the tears falling down her own cheeks, mingling with those of her son.

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After her confrontation with Salazar, Helga started noticing that her former lover's behaviour towards those of Muggle heritage became worse than ever. In classes she heard from her students of how he ignored the Muggle children, how he ridiculed them when they gave the wrong answers and how harshly he punished them when he decided they were not listening in class.

When they passed him in the corridors of the Castle he would sneer at them or say harsh words. There was no compassion left in him, not a single word of praise or encouragement to those he deemed unworthy. More often than not she and the other two had talked to their Muggle-born students and heard of how badly they were maltreated by Salazar. All of them attempted to talk with him again and again, but to no avail. He denied targeting those children and said that he treated all his students the same, but as the months went by things became more serious, until the time that they could no longer be ignored or excused.

It was a fine day near the end of the year, and most of the students were outside, enjoying the afternoon sun. As Helga walked back inside, she could hear boys' enthusiastic cries and the bang of wooden swords slamming together, which told her that Godric had taken his class to practice outside. They had left the children at their grandfather's in the village for the week, and she was sure that Rhian was driving Ceridwen mad by now, and so she was determined to find Ilar and spend the rest of the day with him. It had been a long time since last they had had some time alone.

Her plans were foiled however. Just as soon as she stepped away from the main staircase, she heard the echoes of someone crying. Alarmed, she followed the desperate sounds of a child's sobs until she found the one emitting them.

She was one of the older Muggle-born students, from the country south of there. She was under Helga's care, and a good, cheerful girl usually. She was a good student, hard-working and obedient, and she had many friends amongst the other students. Now, however, she was curled into a ball at the corner of a small room, her long black hair a ruffled mess unlike its normal sleek condition, and her arms hugging her body tightly.

Helga frowned at seeing her. She knew it could not be a coincidence that the Muggle-born girl was like this. Not after the previous cases.

"What is the matter, Blanid?" she asked the crying girl gently, kneeling beside her and smoothing her hair with a soft hand. "Are you hurt? Let me see." She did not really need to ask. She had known that Blanid was hurt the moment she had seen her. She just did not know how and to what extent.

Not meeting her eyes, the thin girl stretched out both her arms, showing her the angry welts on her forearm, and then, picking up her head, she showed her the ones on her neck as well. Helga had no difficulty recognizing the hex that had been used against the child. Smiling for Blanid's benefit, she tapped her wand against the arms and neck and muttered the anti-hex.

"There," she said in a light voice, feeling anything but reassuring. "All better now, isn't it? Now, Blanid dear, can you tell me who had done this to you?" Though she felt it would be better to have proof of her suspicions, she was preparing herself to hear the worst.

"A boy," the girl said in a weak, almost unheard voice.

"Yes, a boy?" Helga repeated, uncharacteristic impatience crawling into her voice.

"From Slytherin," Blanid finished and then buried her head in Helga's gown, her tears falling again.

Helga comforted the girl, but was glad that she hid her face, for were she to see her Headmistress' expression, she probably would have run away. Helga Hufflepuff was angry. More than that, she was ready to kill. This was the fourth event in two weeks, and every time is was the same. Boys. From Slytherin's group. No one else participated in those hexing excursions. No one else hurt the Muggle-born children. Salazar would have to answer for it, willing or not.

Once the girl was more or less calm, she led her to her group's chambers, all the while with a pleasant expression plastered on her face, then, after giving her one last reassuring smile, turned away, her face a thunderstorm. She would find Salazar and confront him.

It was difficult to find Salazar these days. He became more and more reclusive and secretive as the years had passed. Sometimes Helga could have sworn that he was not in the Castle even when he said he was. He was going places, doing things, and not sharing it with the other three. She was afraid of what it might mean, but did not tell it to Rowena, who was now Salazar's confidant more than the rest of them and though she was angry Helga knew he truly needed one, nor did she share it with Godric, who now had a gaping chasm between himself and his once best friend. Salazar was slipping through their fingers, and she was not even sure why.

After searching the Castle far and wide, she finally found him next to the shore of the lake, walking hither and thither with no apparent direction or meaning, his hands deep within the sleeves of his robe and his face blank.

"Good afternoon, Salazar," she said in a voice that was colder and stiffer than she had first meant, stopping a few paces away from him. Once the words had left her mouth, however, she did not regret it. He deserved a cold treatment for all that he had caused - knowingly or not. And whether it _was_ knowingly, she was now going to find out.

"Helga," he acknowledged in the same cool tone he addressed them all in these days. Ever since they had stopped being together, about five years before, their easy friendship had deteriorated into wary acquaintance and mere politeness. They rarely talked anymore. It became even worse after he had revealed to her a few months before that he really _did_ love her and was too much of a fool to tell her that before she had married Ilar. It hurt. It hurt a lot to know that he had lied to her all those years ago, and just because of his cowardice. She had lost him because he could not tell her the truth and because she was too much of a blind woman to notice that he was telling lies. "What can I do for you?"

The indifferent mannerism set her anger back in place, all her hurt fueling it into a roaring rage. "What can you do for me? I'll tell you what you can do for me," she growled. "You can put a stop to what your students are doing in the school!"

"What are my students doing?" he asked mildly, though the glint in his eyes told her that he knew very well what had happened. "They are students. They study and learn and play like your students, or Rowena's or Godric's. They are children. Let children be children."

"Let - are you a madman, Salazar? You know perfectly well that this is not what they are doing," she burst, glad that there was no one around on this strip of pebbled shore to see her losing her grip on her temper. "It is your stupid view of the world that fuels them and you know it!"

"I am sure I don't know what you are talking about," he said, but this time she was certain she did not imagine the manic glint in his dark eyes. She felt the first buds of fear appearing deep inside her. What was wrong with him? Where was the sweet, dear man she had known all those years? Had it only been a façade all this time? Or was this the mask? She did not know what was happening with him anymore, and it made her afraid. Very afraid.

She could not let it go, however. There were children being hurt over nothing, and this tall man before her was the one who had ignited it all. "They're harming those of Muggle blood, Salazar!" she hissed, for the first time in a very long while meeting the man's eyes, feeling defiant. She would not take it lying down. She will stand firm and show him how wrong she found his actions to be. "Your students are hexing those poor children, and you know it! They curse them in the corridors! The trip them, hit them and call them names! I want this to stop and I want it to stop _now_."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he repeated coldly. "I never told my students to attack other students and that's the truth. I have nothing to do with it." With that he turned away from her and started walking down the shore again.

"But they are _your_ students - they are _your_ responsibility!" she angrily cried after him. "Put a bridle on them if you have to, but stop them from harming others!"

He stopped, his back rigid, his shoulder pulled back, his hair flowing in the wind. He looked so wild now. So lost in his own darkness of the mind. He was lost to everything and everyone he had known. Then, he said in a clear voice that reached her ears even through the rising howl of nonexistent wind around them "Ah. But then, why should I stop something that I wholly agree with, Helga? They have no place there, and my students can see it. I am not going to put a stop to it. It is all for the best." Then he went on walking, his long, lean figure dark against the somber shore.

Behind him, she still stood, her fists clenching and tears flashing in her eyes.

**Ve-ell… 'nother chapter gone, six more plus epilogue to go. As I said at the beginning, Rosalind's death was not plot-driven but a way to put to rest a sad, tortured soul who had lost so much. I probably find it much less sad than a lot of people, but, then again, I know the entire story. I hope you liked this chapter all the same.**

**I thought it might be a bit rushed, but it was supposed to bring things to a head, because the greatest catastrophe is coming, and there's no way to stop it…**

**Hugs and kisses to everyone!**

**- Star of the North**


	26. At First Sight

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** ((laughs madly)) Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Much thanks to everyone who had reviewed and got me to the 300+ reviews this story currently has! I very much appreciate the time all of you have taken to review and I hope that you will enjoy this chapter as much as the others!

**And to business: **Well! We've reached the last five chapters! (_And_ I'm on time!) Now that the threat of Ambrosius is gone, and Salazar's anger is well under way, the story takes a little different turn. These five chapters (plus the epilogue! _Never_ forget the epilogue!) are my attempt to tie up the Founders' story's loose ends and leave an opening to your imagination. Only when it will all be complete we'll be able to tell if I had managed my attempt…

Much longer chapter than previous ones with a **warning:** mainly meant to show the happenings of those years from a Muggle-born point of view, but may contain fluff! You have been warned!

**_Important:_** **PLEASE DO NOT PROCEED BEFORE READING THIS! **This chapter introduces a new character (and as is the custom in this fic, every fifth chapter is written from a side character's PoV, so this is from the new character's), since I needed the view of a Muggle-born on the subject. Please bear in mind that this chapter was one of the earlier ones I have written and was almost completed long before JKR's latest interview to the Leaky Cauldron and Mugglenet.

In said interview, JKR has trampled out - in a way - one of my favourite theories, on which I had somewhat based the name, or rather title, of the new character. I have decided to leave the chapter as it were, and feel free to think that the character's title is merely a coincidence and has nothing to do with… well, just read on.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 25 – At First Sight**

_"It is a well-known fact that prior to his thunderous departure from Hogwarts, Salazar Slytherin made it widely known that he did not welcome Muggle-born wizards and witches into his House. He had proclaimed that as long as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would stand, no Muggle-born would set foot within the premises of his House._

_"However, how could he have made sure that it would not happen long after he and the other Founders would leave the world of the living? Surprisingly enough, it was Godric, his most bitter opponent in that argument, who had supplied him with the solution._

_"The four Founders were long troubled by the question of how they would sort through their students after their demise. Each of them, after all, valued different virtues in those they had to teach. Godric favoured those who were bold and courageous. Rowena favoured those who used their brains to the fullest and enjoyed studying for the sake of studying itself. Helga appreciated all those who were loyal and took their work seriously. And Salazar - he wanted in his House only those who were shrewd and cunning, those who could see clearly into the future and find their place in it, and above all, those who did not have Muggle blood._

_"Long they have argued concerning this matter, and then, one day, Godric came up with an answer. His hat. His hat which the two female Founders made him wear on special occasions when there was need for him to assume the role of one of the greatest wizards of the age. His hat that in years to come would be known as the Hogwarts Sorting Hat…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Aiden was scared. No normal twelve-year-old should ever be that frightened. He was almost a man and therefore had no business shaking with fear as the bulky castle loomed ahead of him. He was shaking for days now, though - ever since Father had sent him away. He shook away the stubborn tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. A man should not cry like a baby. He would show Father. He would show them all.

Aiden had never realized why strange things happened around him. Those things, that could only be described as witchcraft as the village priest had called it, have been following him almost since the day he was born. Every time something of that sort would happen, Father would lock him inside the house, not even letting him come and help in the workshop. Father had said that it was the work of the Evil One and that Aiden should know better than to fall into temptation.

Then that strange old man from next door came in, had a quiet word with Father and next thing he knew, he was on a cart with the old man's grandchildren, a few pots of Father's manufacturing and all his possessions in life neatly packed behind him. Father never came to bid him goodbye. Mother stood at the window, mutely bidding him goodbye as the cart rolled off. His sisters merely stood a little ways away and waved. There were no tears.

"Where are we going?" he had asked the eldest girl timidly on the first day of their journey. She had seemed to be the one responsible over the children, though she had mostly kept to herself, busying herself with driving the cart.

"You mean you don't _know_?" one of the younger children had interrupted before she had had time to reply. "What kind of a fool are you?"

"Hush, Einri," the girl had said sharply, hitting her brother with a handy wooden bowl. "Don't be rude to Aiden. It's not his fault that he's been born to Muggles. We are going to Hogwarts Castle. I've been studying magic there for five years. I can guarantee that you will love it there."

"M…magic?" Aiden had stuttered, his eyes huge. "But - but magic is evil!"

The girl had laughed. "Muggle nonsense, that is. Magic is not evil by itself. Only those who use it for evil purposes are evil. Headmistress Hufflepuff will explain everything to you and to the rest of those of Muggle heritage. She's one herself. Trust me, Aiden. You are going to have the time of your life. The Castle will be like a home to you in a short time."

And now, as he was nearing the Castle, days later, the fear still had not let go. He wanted nothing more than to go back and work with Father in the workshop or run errands for Mother. His eyes welled up again.

As the cart descended from the hill, an awesome sight met his eyes. Two magnificent pillars of immense height stood to either side of the dirt road they followed. On top each pillar was a big, ugly statue of a winged beast. He swallowed hard.

Jayda, the girl in charge, saw his expression and laughed. "You panic easily, Aiden. These are the great boars of Hogwarts. We will reach the Castle soon. The lot of you! Make yourselves ready! I will not have you shaming our family coming to school like that!"

Soon the Castle towered ahead, perched over a lake like a vulture in its nest, and Aiden's breath stuck in his throat. He had never seen such a thing. It was big, it was impressive, it was somber, but more than everything, it would be his home in the next few years. Like it or not, he told himself, he would have to accept it.

When their horses drew to a halt just below the stairs leading up to the great doors of the building, a lone figure walked down the steps to greet them. She was a sunny-looking woman, wearing comfortable robes over an extended belly.

"She's with child _again_?" Einri whispered to his cousin, Mellan.

Jayda, overhearing the supposedly private mutter, thumped him soundly on the head and effectively glared at him.

"Jayda, Riona, Mellan, Somhairle, Einri, Siv," the woman called with genuine affection, a smile on her pretty face. "How lovely to see you all again. You're early." She then frowned and neared the cart. "And who are you?" she asked Aiden, the friendly smile back in place.

"This is Aiden, Connor the potter's son, our neighbour, Headmistress Hufflepuff," Jayda put in. "Grandfather wrote a letter for you. He's already twelve, but he's magic."

"I see," Headmistress Hufflepuff said, the smile not wavering. "Then hand me that letter you speak of and I shall take Aiden inside. The cart and your horse shall be taken care of, per usual. I trust that you can get to your commons without my help?"

"Yes, Headmistress," they all chorused obediently and Jayda handed the woman the carefully folded and sealed parchment.

"Come with me, Aiden," the Headmistress said gently, putting a soft hand on his shoulder and guiding him up the stairs. "Your things will be brought in later, once we determine what to do with you. I am Headmistress Hufflepuff, one of the Heads of this establishment."

Aiden nodded, but did not trust himself to speak. He did not like implications of 'what to do with you'. It sounded foreboding.

Headmistress Hufflepuff led him up the stairs, through the front doors and into a fantastically huge hall, then up stairs, down halls, up more stairs, and then she stopped outside an elaborate, heavy door, which she opened, motioning him to enter behind her.

The inside room was a large chamber with a big, polished mahogany table at its center covered by parchments and books, scales, phials, inkpots and quills. There was a welcoming fire to one side, and a comfortable-seeming sitting corner to the other. Two men were seated there, one stroking a dark brown snake, his dark eyes shadowed, the other sipping tea distractedly, his mind obviously somewhere else. Next to the fireplace, holding a heavy book, knelt a woman in a grey dress.

"Weren't you going to help the children with their things, Helga?" the woman asked in a pleasant voice, her back still turned.

"I was," Headmistress Hufflepuff said. "But we have more important business to deal with. We have a new student. Rowena, Salazar, Godric, meet Aiden, a potter's son, the neighbour of old Mathuin."

All three turned raptor gazes to Aiden, and the poor boy wished nothing but to shrink and disappear. He had never been subject to such close scrutiny. He shifted uncomfortably and looked down at his feet.

"Aiden," she continued, "these are Headmistress Ravenclaw and Headmasters Gryffindor and Slytherin. Aiden here is twelve, but he is a Muggle born, so his parents did not know Hogwarts existed, not to mention magic." The way she said his heritage, whatever _Muggle_ meant, made him think that there was something at work here that he did not know.

To Aiden, it felt like the temperature in the chamber dropped in an instant. He hazarded a peek at the assembled Heads, and his panic intensified tenfold. Headmaster Slytherin's eyes, shadowed up until then, blazed with an eerie light, and the look he directed at Aiden was less than friendly. Headmistress Hufflepuff, noticing that, said in the kindest voice she could muster "Aiden, dear, why don't you take a chair and settle over there at the corner. This might take a while. You may take a book from the bottom shelf - but not from those above it."

Not saying anything to her about not knowing how to read, Aiden did as he was told and occupied himself by examining a beautiful tapestry on the opposite wall.

"He is twelve. We accept students only at eleven," the tall, foreboding Headmaster Slytherin grounded almost as soon as Aiden sat down, his dark, blazing eyes making Aiden tremble with fear. Whatever the Headmaster's problem was, Aiden's age was certainly not it.

Aiden knew the man thought he was talking quietly, but his hearing had always been better than most people's. He stared hard at the tapestry, while doing his best to hear everything that passed between the four.

"Just say it, Salazar - will you?" Headmistress Hufflepuff spat. "A few years ago we would have accepted him at seventeen! You don't want him because he is Muggle born!"

"And what if I do?"

"Then you are a prejudiced pig and I see no reason to refuse this potter's son his magic education. I stand firm on this. I will accept him in my own House if needs be."

"That is for the Hat to decide," Headmaster Gryffindor said quietly, his voice rumbling, easily heard by the young boy.

_Hat?_

"The Hat?" Hufflepuff asked in surprise. "It's not completely functional yet, isn't it? And - wait. Are you ready to accept the boy?"

"Yes," he said, looking straight into the other man's eyes. "I am. He's magic, after all, and he will be the Hat's first try. It is finally time for us to try it. We're not getting any younger, you know."

Slytherin let out a hiss. "What about you, Rowena? What do _you_ say?"

Headmistress Ravenclaw, who up until then was kneeling near the fireplace quietly, preferring to listen and not speak, got up and brushed her skirts. "Put the Hat on him," she said softly.

"Rowena-" Slytherin began.

"No, Salazar. When we built this school almost twenty years ago we said we will educate all those children of magic blood. Will you deny this boy his heritage?" she held his eyes for a long time before he looked away. "Put the Hat on him, Godric. Now, before we sort the other students, if the Hat will work as it should, perhaps next year we can put it to work. It would certainly make the sorting shorter."

"Yes, dear," Gryffindor said and removed a wide-brimmed hat from a shelf. He walked to Aiden who was still sitting demurely on the far side of the room, pretending not to have heard a word of the discussion. He handed him the hat. "Put this on, boy, and do not take it off until I say so."

Aiden nodded and put it on.

"_A new head, is it?_"the small voice in his ear nearly made him jump out of his skin. "_Good. I get so tired of always reading Godric's mind. It gets boring after a while… but that's not why we are here, is it? I need to decide in which House you belong._

"_Slytherin certainly wouldn't do, Salazar would have a fit and we can't have that. Now, Hufflepuff… you are loyal, but you are not a very hardworking boy, now are you? Always conveniently forgetting to do your chores… Helga would have none of that. So it's either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. _

"_You are brave, I'll give you that, to come here, not knowing anything, but what strikes me the most is how clever you are. I have made my choice. RAVENCLAW!_"

The name ringing in his ears, Aiden felt the Hat being removed gently from his head. A pair of hazel eyes shone brightly at him.

"You're mine, then, boy," Ravenclaw said, a small smile quirking her lips. "I will be sending someone to show you around soon. Please wait outside."

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Aiden sat quietly on the stone floor just outside the room where the Headmasters conversed for a long time. He could hear their words clearly. They were still discussing the matter of his acceptance - though _discussing_ may be the wrong word. _Fighting_ would be a more accurate one.

The most vehement of the voices were those of Gryffindor and Slytherin. Gryffindor was adamant on treating him like all other students, but Slytherin maintained that Aiden should be sent back home, and that the sooner the better. They were shouting at each other, and at times the two women would add something in a loud voice to contradict something one of the men had said - Slytherin more often than not.

He had no idea what had Headmaster Slytherin had against him. The animosity in which he had addressed him was worse than anything the young boy had ever encountered. It was as though Aiden was the embodiment of everything the Headmaster had hated. He wondered if he would be able to change the man's opinion of him.

"Hello!" a cheerful voice startled him out of his brooding, breaking the muted mumble of the argument in the adjacent room. "You're Aiden, are you not?"

He turned around slowly to see a little girl only slightly shorter than him smiling brightly at him. She was wearing a pretty blue and red dress and had her long auburn hair flowing free to her waist. She had large blue eyes that twinkled with merriment.

"Yes," he affirmed softly. "Who are you?"

"I'm Ceridwen - but please call me Ceri, because Ceridwen is my grandmother and it gets _so_ confusing. No one calls me Ceridwen anyway. I've been sent to keep you company and show you around. I'll be in your study group."

"Then you are twelve?"

She shook her head. "Eleven. They put you in the first years' group because you're a beginner like the rest of us."

"Oh. So where are we going?"

"Well, first I'll show you the Great Hall and the rooms in which the different lessons take place, and then I'll take you to the Ravenclaw quarters, where you will live for the rest of the year. Come on. It'll be fun - so stop looking so glum!"

Ceri was true to her word. She gave him a tour of the entire Castle, starting with the Great Hall, which was a huge chamber, right off the entrance hall. She told him that once it had been called the Council Hall, and then she started telling him of the great rebellion the Heads had led against an evil man named Ambrosius so many years before they were both born.

"Actually," she clarified, "the rebellion ended soon after I was born - but I was just a baby, and so was my brother. We don't remember anything about it, but Aunt Helga tells it was horrible, those last days. They were all sure they were going to die. Father hardly speaks of those days at all, but Mother tells everything, because she says it's the parents' duty to pass historic tales to their children. She values great knowledge, you know."

She continued telling him how her grandmother after whom she had been named pushed the Heads into a full out rebellion and how in the end it all turned out well. Then she led him around the Castle, whispering of secret passages and rooms within it, showing him classrooms, taking him up to the towers and ordering him which stairwells to avoid on what times. She gave him a shortened history of the school's existence, telling him of the Houses and the people that lived there. It was fascinating, he had to admit.

Ceri ended the tour up at the top of what she called the Star Reading Tower. "They teach star reading here," she explained the obvious. "Once a week at midnight. It's going to be my favourite class, because I love staying up late, and Mother rarely allows it. Ryan always gets to go to bed so much later than me. It isn't fair - he's not that much older than I am."

Aiden found her pout funny, but did not dare telling her that. Instead, he gazed at the magnificent view revealed from the tower. The sun was setting, big and red as it neared the horizon. The flat surface of the lake gleamed in the light, winking on and off at him. A dark forest was to one side, and rocks to the other. With a smile he decided that he was going to like his years in Hogwarts.

He then remembered something that he had wanted to ask, but did not know to whom he should point the question. "Back when I was where the Heads met, they put a hat on my head to decide where I should go. What _is_ that hat? Why did they do it?"

She looked up from the view before them, her expression strangely delighted. "They've used the Hat on you?" she exclaimed. "That's _wonderful_! I thought they'd _never_ complete it." At his look of confusion she smiled and elaborated. "They didn't found this school in order to have it closed once they… well, die. But then, they have very specific requirements on who would go into their own House, because each House focuses on something else. They've been pondering the problem of how to sort new students into the Houses in years to come, and this is what they came up with." She seemed strangely wistful at the idea that the Heads would one day die.

"A hat?"

"Not _just_ a hat. It's _the_ Hat. They've spelled it to have a mind of its own and an ability to see what one person has within their head. It can spot your most obvious characteristics, and then decided whether you belong in Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Slytherin. You, apparently, value knowledge more than anything else. That's why you've been put in Ravenclaw." Then she fell silent, a pensive mood suddenly enveloping her.

After a while in silence, she sighed. "I had better lead you to the quarters. The feast and the sorting will be starting in no time."

They walked in companionable silence through the labyrinthine halls of Hogwarts until she slowed to a stop.

"These are the Ravenclaw quarters," she said, nodding at a tapestry that covered an entire wall. The huge thing portrayed a young maiden standing by a unicorn, with her fingers burrowed within its mane.

"Where?" he asked in confusion, searching for a door.

"Right here," she said cheerfully, laughter brimming in her voice. "All you have to do is walk near and then I'll tell you the rest."

"Near what?"

"The tapestry, naturally!" she laughed. Then she walked towards the wall.

"Dear girl," the maiden in the tapestry said softly, making Aiden jump back several steps in alarm. The tapestry was _talking_. "You cannot enter the premises beyond without a password."

"Now listen carefully, Aiden," Ceri said slowly and deliberately. "Remember the words I say now, for whenever you wish to enter the Ravenclaw quarters you must speak the password." Then, to the maiden, she said "_Aurora Grande_."

The maiden smiled kindly, and in front of Aiden's wide-open eyes, the tapestry whisked itself aside and revealed an elaborate archway in the wall behind it, carved with a leaf design.

"Well?" Ceri urged him. "Go in. There will be someone within who will instruct you further. I shall see you tomorrow in class. Good night." She turned away and started walking in the direction they came from.

"Wait!" he called desperately after her, afraid to lose the one friend he had in the cold castle. "Aren't you staying?"

"What?" Ceri asked in surprise. "Of course not! I have my own room in Mother's and Father's quarters. I have to share with my brother, but it's still more comfortable than _these_ rooms."

"With you parents? Then you stay in the village at night?"

"Of course not, silly!" she laughed. "I live in the Castle - always have."

"Who are you parents, then?" he asked, though he had a feeling that he actually knew the answer. As far as he knew, from listening to her stories, there was only one married couple inside Hogwarts.

"Headmaster Gryffindor and Headmistress Ravenclaw, of course!" she laughed again and waved him goodbye, running away.

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Hogwarts Castle was a whole new experience to Aiden. Back home he was the only son and therefore had many duties thrust on him. He had been expected to take his father's place in the pottery workshop one day and had spent his days labouring by the furnace, putting pots in and taking them out when the right time came. He had learned how to make pots with the level of skill required of such a well-known workshop and in some part of his mind he was really looking up to the day he would be a real craftsman, working in his own shop.

Back home he had also been expected to help with the housework and with the garden, doing many jobs that required physical strength and consisted of a lot of time spent in the open air.

Hogwarts was different. Here he spent most of his time indoors, painstakingly moving his unaccustomed hand in shapes he never knew possible, his muscles stiffening by the unfamiliar grip on the quill. He had broken many quills in his journey to learn reading and writing, but Headmistress Ravenclaw never seemed to give up on him, though her face _did_ show her growing impatience. Ceri told him not to worry, that her mother was always like that. She would sit with him for hours after classes had ended, patiently explaining how this letter was formed or why he was supposed to use one letter instead of another.

His mind was practically bursting with the amounts of knowledge his teachers needed him to consume. Names of herbs, incantations for spells, historical facts and more, all swirling around his dazed mind. He never thought anything like this strange world he had stumbled upon ever existed.

With the help of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, he had crafted his own wand and could then join with the actual spell-casting. This proved to him beyond anything else that he was indeed different from all his peers back home, from his family and friends.

Gryffindor seemed to like him well enough. He certainly approved of the fact that Aiden did not seem to have any trouble wielding the practice sword he had given him in his first Phoenix Lore practical session. Hours working in the garden had apparently not been a complete waste.

It was Slytherin that seemed to have a constant problem with Aiden's mere existence. No matter what he did, the man hated him. He would be the harshest to him amongst all students, rewarding each failure in a hard punishment. Even among the Muggle-born Aiden was the one he most resented. Something about Aiden cankered his soul.

There were not many Muggle-born students in Hogwarts, but they soon sought Aiden out and warned him to never be alone in the corridors. They told him that he should always have at least one other person with him at all times while he was not in the commons. Preferably, a person of non-Muggle descent.

"But why?" he asked in bewilderment, staring at the earnest-looking girl sitting across from him in the Ravenclaw commons.

"Because they would hunt you down," she explained solemnly. "They would hunt you down and harm you."

"Who are _they_?"

"Slytherins, mostly. Some others who seem to think that Headmaster Slytherin has the right idea - but those are very rare. He doesn't like us Muggle-born. I don't know why, but the rumours say that a relative of his was killed by Muggles many years ago and that he throws the blame on anyone who's connected to them - which means us, the Muggle-born. They hex us when we're alone, and there were some cases of fistfights. Funny, that they abhor everything Muggle and then turn around and use fists on us."

Aiden simply stared at the girl, not believing that such things were possible. Jayda had said that he was going to have fun here, not that he was to fear for his life.

As weeks went by, however, he had his own opportunities to see exactly where things stood, and it was precisely what that girl had said. As luck had it, though, the ever-cheerful Ceri knew it was true as well, and stuck to him whenever outside of class. Her status, as the daughter of two of the Heads, protected him from the more violently-inclined blood-purists living in the Castle.

Soon enough, though, he realized that Ceri remained with him for more than one reason. When he had asked her why she was doing it, at first she was rather hesitant about answering, but then sighed and explained.

"I lived in this Castle my entire life, Aiden. I rarely went to the village, and when I _did_ go there, it was always with Ryan to visit my Grandmothers. The only constant friend I had was Ryan, and I assume you know how embarrassing it is to tell people that your best friend is your brother. Don't get me wrong," she hurriedly waved her hand when she caught the surprised expression on his face. "Ryan is the best friend anyone could have asked for, but… he has his own friends - and I don't. You were nice to me, and you didn't mind that my father and my mother are the Heads. So unless you completely detest me, do you mind if I spend time with you?"

After that there was no question about it. He did not tell her that at the time, but her instant friendliness back in his first day of school had meant a lot to him, and he did not mind in the least to spend time in her company.

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Aside of the occasional attack on the few Muggle-born students who attended the Castle and the periodic loud arguments between Slytherin and Gryffindor, there were other things that made life at the Castle both exciting and alarming.

There were the walking and talking portraits and tapestries, that while they were few and far in-between, were still an amazing sight to behold. The ever-changing staircases, doors and rooms always seemed to catch him and the other first year children of Ravenclaw House by surprise, but Ceri was always there to laugh at them all and lead the right way. Aiden had the distinct feeling that she enjoyed seeing them get lost and that that was the reason behind not _telling_ them they had taken the wrong turn.

As the months passed, however, that became easier and they spent less and less time on trying to find their way around. Ceri may have been a bit disappointed at that, but she found more ways to surprise, scare and laugh at the boys who had become her close companions.

Alan, she had told Aiden once the shy boy had finally plucked his courage and bashfully asked to sit with them over a noon meal, was one of the village boys, one of the many cousins of Rhian, Headmistress Hufflepuff's eldest, who was much too young to start learning yet, but still tagged along Ceri more than often. He never stopped feeling amazed at his friend's infinite-seeming patience with the girl.

Alan was a very nice boy, and once he had overcome his shyness, became so talkative that often the other two had to shush him.

Then there was Ansgar, who was from Cornwall - a burly, loud boy who had taken an immediate liking to Aiden and was the first to jump into the fray if his Muggle-born friend was in trouble with the Slytherin blood-purists. He also felt he had to play protector to the small and fragile-looking Ceri, who took it all in good grace, though she could not resist teasing their big friend about it.

The last of the group was Fingal. Fingal was a boy from the Scottish highlands. He had lived all his life in a big and boisterous clan, and was the first of its sons to go to the fabled school. He was a quiet boy, though not as shy as Alan. He also had a very sharp wit, and at times rivaled Ceri in hyperactivity.

Together the five friends studied, played and laughed. Aiden, who back home had been restricted to house and shop, never had such friends before. The few friends he had in the village were like him, sons of craftsmen who needed to help at home and shop, and so did not have much time. He only really had his siblings to play with, and as they were both girls, and ones who hated to get dirty at that, he never had the chance to run around and roll on the ground in play.

Ceri was different, however. Though Aiden heard many older girls comment on the fact that she had chosen to surround herself with boys and saw them looking snidely at his friend, Ceri was quite content to stay with them. When he asked her about it, she laughed at his tentative question.

"Come, now, Aiden!" she said, pulling on a mock-hurt expression. "You make it sound as though you boys don't want to have me around." And when he stuttered and tried to say that this was not what he meant to say at all, she burst out laughing and patted his shoulder consolingly. "I'm joking, Aiden. Really, I don't mind what those old hags say. If I want a girl's company - I have Rhian. It's really not that important. Does that take the worries off your mind?"

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"_There_ you are, Aiden!" a girl's voice interrupted a friendly mock-fight between Fingal and Ansgar which Aiden and the other three were watching avidly, cheering alternately for both contestants.

Turning to see who was calling, Aiden recognized his neighbour's oldest granddaughter, Jayda, who looked short for breath. Raising his eyebrows in question, he waited for her to state her business.

"I was just talking with Headmistress Ravenclaw," Jayda said, her face concerned. "She said that you asked for permission to stay at the Castle during the summer."

Aiden shrugged. "So I did. Why?"

"Well, aren't you coming home with us?"

At this, the mock-fight stopped abruptly, and all four of Aiden's friends looked up at Jayda, surprised. Aiden himself stared at her, his mind refusing to process what had been said. Finally, his throat unstuck itself, and his voice came out. "Home? I'm not _wanted_ at home," he said.

"But Grandfather said he'd be delighted to take you in, Aiden," the girl said in surprise. "Didn't you know? I thought he would have told you that. He needs the company and the help, and he would welcome you always. Won't you come?"

Aiden did not know what to say to that. Master Mathuin wanted him? When Jayda had said 'home', his mind immediately went to that pleasant house that contained all his childhood memories, with a loving father who told stories while they worked by the furnace in the shop, and a doting mother who pampered him and kissed him, and two annoying sisters whom he loved unconditionally. But then, that was not home anymore, now was it? He was not welcomed there anymore. He was unnatural, doing one hand with the Evil One. His parents did not want to be tainted with the same brush as he. He was no longer their son, as far as he knew. That was not home anymore.

Home was Hogwarts.

But he needed a place to stay in during the summer. Headmistress Ravenclaw had gently told him that it was not their custom to allow students to stay in the Castle during the months of summer. It was the point in the year when they finally had had time to devote themselves utterly to their families and they did not have time to look after a lone student. She had also said that if they had no other choice they would make arrangements for him to stay with a hospitable family in the Loch, but why could he not return home? At this question he had fallen silent and soon after asked to be excused.

And now this offer came out of nowhere. There was someone willing to welcome him into his home, and Master Mathuin was friendly enough, albeit weird - so why not?

He would go to a home this summer. It may not be his own home, but it would be good enough for Aiden.

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Though he had promised himself repeatedly that he would not go near the wall that marked the end of Master Mathuin's property, Aiden found himself drawn to it. There was nothing he could do. He felt so helpless, being pulled there against his will. He should have known better.

He was only a week in Master Mathuin's house, and already felt comfortable enough next to the kindly old man. Jayda was correct. Her grandfather really needed the company more than anything else. He was overjoyed at having someone at the house again, living there with him. He had lost his wife several years before, and though all his children lived a cart-drive distance away, he still felt lonely. He was also an awful cook, but that was beside the point.

In the first three days of his stay there, Aiden had kept to the house, solely to avoid being spotted by any member of his family happening to look into the neighbour's land. After those three days were gone, however, he could no longer stand being closed in a house anymore and therefore risked going out to the garden. For four days he had managed to rein in his desire to just peek over the wall and perhaps catch sight of his sisters, but finally it overcame him.

Cautiously creeping down the garden, he had his ear open to any strange noise that might betray his presence. At last he reached the wall, and carefully raised himself enough to see over the top.

It looked… so ordinary. Nothing had changed in the year he was gone. The tidy rows of vegetables were still there, still meticulously nurtured and pruned. The lines with the clean laundry put to dry stretched over them were still taut and straight as they had been when he had helped his mother arrange them two years before. The smoke from the chimney of the shop's furnace rose as pale as ever, and from where he was standing he could hear his mother's voice, singing as she made his father's noon meal.

Without any warning, tears started falling down Aiden's cheeks. Oh, how he wanted to be there with her, bringing in a fresh pail of milk! He wanted to sit in that warm kitchen with one of her delicious meals in front of him, to have her hug him and kiss him again and say that everything will be all right. He wanted to play with Aine and Aisling, tug their hairs and hide their things. He wanted…

"Aiden?"

Losing his footing in alarm, he fell to the ground with a painful smack to his rear. He had been spotted!

"Aiden!" Aine's voice repeated his name. "I know you're there! Aiden! Please come back!" And when he failed to comply, his heart hammering in his chest, he could hear his eldest sister sprinting into the house, calling "Mama! Mama! I just saw Aiden!"

Terrified, Aiden ran back into Master Mathuin's house, into his room and under the quilt on his bed. He was not sure of what he was afraid. He was certain that Aine, and certainly his mother would not do anything to harm him, but as for Father… He felt like he had never known his father. He was not sure what his reaction would be when he finds out that Aiden had returned.

For the next week he had adamantly refused to leave the house. It was only when Einri had appeared late into the first month of summer that he had reluctantly agreed to go outside. The older boy had come over to help his grandfather with his small field behind the house, and had virtually dragged Aiden outside in order to have help. As noon crept on them, Einri put down his tools and looked down at Aiden, who was on his knees, pulling out weeds.

"Have you visited your family, yet?" he asked quietly.

Aiden kept his eyes firmly on the ground. "No, and I don't intend to."

"Why not?" the usually taunting boy asked with a true note of concern in his voice.

"Because I'm not wanted there," Aiden replied shortly and, wiping the dirt on his hands over the coarse trousers he was wearing, picked himself up, not meeting Einri's eyes.

"I see. Not wanted here and not wanted there. Stuck in the middle. I'm glad I'm not in your place. But… Aiden?" Einri's voice was gentle. "If you need someone to talk to this summer - you know, someone more or less your age? I'm just half an hour away. Feel free to come, and maybe we can go fishing or something? I know good places around here."

For the first time in weeks, Aiden smiled. He was grateful for that offer, and at that moment, was determined to act upon it.

There were several other close escapes that summer. He had ventured a few more times to the wall, and was almost caught by his sisters three times and by his mother once. Father never seemed to go into the back garden. All this while he wrote letters to his friends, commandeering Master Mathuin's owl for that purpose. Admittedly, Ceri got most of those letters, but he did make sure not to leave his other friends out.

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Things at Hogwarts over the next year became quite heated. The resentment between some of the Slytherins and the Muggle-born was still high, but that also caused further deterioration in the relationship of Slytherin and Gryffindor. A rather glum Ceri told Aiden about endless fights late into the night when the four Heads thought that Ryan and her were fast asleep. Everyone's tempers were becoming shorter with each passing month. She even admitted that her parents were often at odds about this thing or that, and that sometimes she could hear her mother crying at night, when she thought no one was listening.

Aiden could see that she was more worried about her mother than about her father. When he gently questioned her about it, she said that her mother was so strong and stern, that when _she_ fell apart, it scared Ceri more than anything. He had to agree with that explanation. He could never see Headmistress Ravenclaw in tears. It was… unnatural.

The rivalry between the two men who headed the school became so much worse as their Houses seemed to start finding excuses to hex each other or waylay one another in the corridors. Suddenly it was not just blood-purists versus Muggle-born. It was now Muggle-born supporters versus blood-purists, and that fact dragged the entire school into a multidirectional war.

While at classes things only boiled under the surface, the students behaving under their teachers' sharp eyes, once they were over, fights broke all over the Castle, often ending with multiple injuries and very angry Heads. It seemed as though everyone was picking sides in this fight, and only very few remained at the sidelines.

Ceri had told her friends that her mother and her Aunt Helga were very worried about this, but ever they, great friends as they were, seemed to disagree about the way in which this had to be taken care of, and fought often these days. She was on the verge of tears while telling them this, and none of the boys knew how to calm her. Eventually Aiden, as the oldest of them all, wrapped his arms around her and held her until she calmed down sufficiently. After that she had avoided him for three whole days, never telling him the reason why. Those days left him somewhat confused and worried. It was then that he realized just how far little Ceri had wormed into his heart, and he keenly felt her absence.

In the meanwhile, classes were becoming gradually harder. Being of the second year group, their teachers expected more from them. To Aiden, every new spell was a surprise, something to appreciate and bask in. Every new aspect of magic he had learned made his depression at the possibility that he would never be part of his family again abate by little. The possibilities magic opened to him made him wonder how he was ever afraid of coming here.

Jayda had been right. He enjoyed every minute in the Castle, and to him - to him Hogwarts was home.

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The cart stopped in front of Master Mathuin's house. The cheerful banter between Aiden and Einri still filled the noon air. The two would never be best of friends, but they were friendly enough. It was hard not to when they spent all their time together during the summer, working together in Einri's grandfather's field.

Suddenly, Einri stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes widening.

"What?" Aiden chuckled. "Kneazle got your tongue?"

"N-no…" Einri mumbled. "Aiden, isn't that your father?"

Aiden whirled around and felt his eyes grow as wide as Einri's. There, right beside the wall dividing Master Mathuin's property from that of the pottery workshop and his family's home stood his father, a hat in his knotted hands. He was decidedly nervous.

"Excuse me," Aiden softly said to the other children on the cart. With that he lightly leaped off it and slowly, deliberately walked towards his father. As he drew near, the older man took an involuntary step backwards. Aiden stopped, feeling cold inside. His father was actually afraid of him.

"Did you want something?" he asked bluntly, not uttering a word of greeting. He made sure not to stand too close.

"I…" his father began, then his shoulders slumped. "Hello, Aiden."

"That's it? That's all you wanted? You just came to say hello?" He found it hard to keep the bitterness away from his words.

"No, I - I came to see if…" the man's voice died as he looked up at his son that he had not seen in four years with what could be described at best as a hopeful expression.

Aiden meant to ask "If what?" but the words would not come out.

Father and son stood in ominous silence, not quite looking at one another. Aiden knew his fellow students would be waiting to help him with his things into Master Mathuin's house, but he did not look back or turn away from his father. The man was here for a reason, and damned be he if he would let that reason slip away from him.

"So… Aiden…" his father finally started after a long time, playing with his hat. "Would you… would you…"

"Would I what?" asked Aiden - who finally got a measure of control over his own voice - in what he hoped was a cold, detached tone, fearing whatever it was that his father was about to ask.

"Would you like to come home with me? Your mother misses you and…" the older man gulped. "So do I."

Aiden simply stared at his father. At fifteen - almost sixteen, at that - he was already taller than the man, and his extensive sword training developed his body magnificently. He had also learned to stare from Ceri during long wintry nights when there was nothing better to do, and his friend had learned it from her mother. It was very effective, as every student of Hogwarts could attest. He could not believe that his father would ask such a thing after four years of silence.

Four years of being away from home, away from his mother and sisters, away from everything he had known as _home_, and _now_ the man came up with that question.

When his father finally started twitching under his incredulous stare, he sighed and voiced the question that was on his mind. "Why? You've completely ignored my existence for almost four years. I've been living at Master Mathuin's ever since I was twelve. You hate me for what I am. Why would you want me back?"

His father bit his lower lip. "We never hated you, Aiden. Were we to hate you, you would have been dead the minute Master Mathuin approached us. All of you would have. It just… took us time to adjust."

"Four years?" Aiden growled, disbelief etched on his every feature. "It had taken you _four years_ to adjust? You've missed four years of my life, Father! What do you know of me? Do you know who my friends are? Do you know what I do with my life? No! You don't! You've completely severed yourselves from me! What do you expect me to say?"

"I expected you to say… yes."

Aiden sank to the ground. "I don't know, Father. I really don't know. I got so used to be by myself in the past few years and having you welcome me back all of a sudden…"

He buried his head in his hands, his mind bursting with questions. After all this time - four whole years where Aiden had spent his summers sneaking cautious peeking over the wall in an attempt to feel even a little close to his old family, hiding once spotted - _now_ he wanted him back? Now, after Aiden had finally resolved to never get near that wall again and live happily and contently with his new adoptive family? He could not believe the man.

This man, this _Muggle_, who had sired him, knew nothing at all about his life, knew nothing about who he was now. He had known him as a little boy, but so much had changed since then! They were complete strangers as far as Aiden was concerned.

Again, he repeated the only word he could pronounce in relative calm. "Why?" he asked.

"Because we love you, Aiden. Always have - always will."

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At first Aiden was reluctant to go back. He had left his father standing by the wall, saying he had to think about it. Then he had entered Master Mathuin's kitchen and miserably buried his face in his hands again, his elbows on the scrubbed table.

It was then that Master Mathuin gave him a piece of advice that he could not ignore.

"They are your family, my dear boy," the old man said quietly, putting a gnarled old hand on his shoulder. "They are your family, and even though I could see that you were doing your best to cut yourself off and forget them, I know that it is impossible to do so. You still love them, Aiden, and that is the most important thing in the world. It is this love that can make everything all right again. You may never forget the scars they had given you by sending you away and ignoring your existence, but you can forgive, and give second chances. In the end, it is your choice, but I would like you to at least try. If it does not work out, then you are always welcome here. Now go. Go back to your family."

And so, with great doubts in mind, but with determination to make Master Mathuin proud, Aiden, Connor the potter's son, squared his shoulders, and prepared himself to meet his family once more. There would be no more chances after this one. This was his only opening to amend things. He would make them all proud. He would show them all.

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"Aiden! Hand me that bit of clay - would you?"

Connor the potter had been working in his workshop since daybreak and demanded that Aiden would do the same. That was the reason why the young man was standing next to the huge furnace all day, keeping it hot, pulling baked pots out and putting fresh ones in, sweating profusely. It felt good to once again do the job he had trained for years before he had been accepted into Hogwarts. The familiar strain on his shoulders was somehow comforting.

"Here," he breathed, tossing the wet chunk his father's way.

"Thank you. So you said I don't know anything about your friends and your life," his father said with a tired smile, his eyes never leaving the clay shaping under his fingers. "Would you like to tell me?"

Aiden smiled a covert smile and said "Well, first of all, they are all younger than me-"

"Why?" his father demanded sharply. "Don't you get along with your age group?"

Aiden noticed his father's protectiveness and felt his smile widen. It was something he had sorely missed in the years of separation. "No, no. I get along fine with them, whenever I do meet them, but when I started school I was a year late, so the Heads put me with the younger year - the one just starting. I don't mind being eldest - it brings certain prestige among the others…"

Then he told his father about Alan, Ansgar and Fingal, and how they were his best friends. He told him about midnight escapades, and magical jokes played on fellow students, about lessons taken and secret journeys into the nearby forest and close escapes from the beasts within. He told him about creative punishments from Headmaster Gryffindor, mild ones from Headmistress Hufflepuff, difficult ones from Headmistress Ravenclaw and harsh ones from Headmaster Slytherin. He told him everything, hiding little, and what he did hide, he surmised would not hurt the older man.

It was such a relief to share these things with someone who found it new and exciting, and not someone who knew all about it, sometimes much better than Aiden did. It was also the first father-son experience he had had in years. It was just like old times all over again, and now that his family had accepted him for what he was, he knew that this would not be the last time.

Inside the workshop he felt at home again.

"You're hiding something from me, aren't you?" his father asked shrewdly after a long pause. "It's a girl, isn't it? Who is she?"

Aiden gaped at this father, Never in his life had he been so shocked. He never expected his _father_ of all people to recognize the emitted mention of the girl who was the center of his world for as long as he had been a student at Hogwarts. He was certain he had hid it so well. "M…my best friend," he stammered, looking down at his feet. He had never been so embarrassed and yet so thrilled in his entire life.

"Ah."

He could _hear_ his father smirk. Somehow the wheel had turned, and he was no longer the one with the upper hand.

"And does this… best _friend_ have a name?" the man asked slyly, attempting to coax something further out of him.

Aiden cheeks grew red. He realized that his father did not have too many opportunities to embarrass one of his children. His two sisters, Aine and Aisling, were far too old or too young for it, and his mother, Donella, had long since taken a very cynical approach to anything his father had to say. "Ceri," he whispered, his eyes still determinedly fixed on the floor.

"Ceri?"

"Ceridwen Gryffindor. The Headmaster and Headmistress' daughter," his father had to lean closer to hear these words, he could barely allow them to leave his mouth.

The older man started laughing. "You don't go small, do you, my boy? Is she pretty?"

Aiden closed his eyes. Was Ceri pretty? Was little Ceri pretty? With her wavy dark-auburn hair falling to her waist, untamed but so soft? With her large blue, almond-shaped eyes, always twinkling happily and mischievously? Was she pretty?

"No," he said. "She's not pretty. She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."

His father smiled. His smile told Aiden everything he needed to know.

The rest of the summer passed almost too quickly for Aiden's liking. He was outside almost every day, helping Einri in Master Mathuin's fields like always, spent hours by the furnace, helping his father, went for long walks with his sisters to the secret places they had loved so much as little children and helped his mother around the house.

During the past three summers he had missed doing all that. He had always been heart-broken not to see any member of his small family. Now it was all back in place and he was happy again. Only one thing he found lacking. There were only a few owls from Ceri that summer. It was as though she tactfully decided he needed time with his family after he had sent her that letter telling her everything about their reconcilement. He still very much missed her cheerful letters telling him all about what went on in the halls of Hogwarts when no student was around.

It was, therefore, quite easy for him to say goodbye to his family at the end of summer when it was time for him to climb once again onto the cart and travel to another year at the Castle. As much as he loved them and was gratified to have them once again at his side, he found that he sorely missed his best friend, and that he could not wait to see her again. And so he hugged them for the last time until the next summer and did not turn back.

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Seeing the Castle looming ahead, Aiden started almost bouncing in his seat among the other children. He felt as though they would never reach there. His hands fiddled with the straps closing the carefully padded satchel containing this year's tribute of pots of his father's manufacture.

"Would you calm _down_?" Einri asked with an amused quirk of his eyebrow. "I'm sure your lovely girl will be waiting for us like she always does. You will see her in no time."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Aiden denied, though his reddening cheeks gave him away.

"_Right_," Einri smirked, but said nothing for the rest of the journey.

True to his friend's word, as the cart pulled to as stop in front of the stairs leading up to the Castle, the small figure of Ceri Gryffindor came hurtling down the steps. Behind her the stately Headmistress Ravenclaw descended to greet them at a more leisurely pace.

"Ceri!" Aiden cried, ignoring the others' knowing grins, jumped from the cart and hurried towards his friend.

"Aiden!" she squealed and threw herself into his arms. He could not help but notice that during the summer months she had developed quite a bit. She was no longer a little girl. He shook those guilty thoughts from his mind, feeling like a perverted man. She was his friend, he insistently told himself, nothing else, and if that was not enough - her stern mother was standing right behind them.

"How was your summer?" she asked enthusiastically after finally letting go, getting hold his hand and pulling him past her mother and up the stairs.

"Pretty much eventless," he said, having trouble not staring at the way interesting things moved beneath the fabric of her gown. "I helped Father at the workshop, haven't been caught performing magic - though there was that one close call with the village priest-"

"Aiden!" she scolded. "You should know better than that!"

"I know," he shrugged. "It was fun though. I turned the old coot's kettle into a toad. He couldn't find the thing and nearly had a seizure when the toad jumped on his table. Pity he hadn't. Then I wouldn't have had to listen to all his lectures about the wickedness of witchcraft. What did you do?"

"Nothing, really. Ryan hexed me, I hexed him, we both hexed Father, all of us got hexed by Mother - the usual."

Aiden always marveled at how different the real Gryffindor-Ravenclaw family was from the image it had. The things that Ceri told him about what really went on when the rest of the students were not around were absolutely amazing. It was a hectic household where everybody loved everybody fiercely and without restraints, yet made fun of each other constantly.

"Mother said that there will be a new teacher coming this year - to replace Aunt Helga in Runes. Aunt Helga says she can't go on grading both Runes _and_ Study of Magical Creatures, what with that and the rest of her additional projects. She hasn't got enough time for her children-"

"And now that she's with child again…" he finished for her.

"I overheard Mother and Aunt Helga the other day," she said with a secretive expression on her face. "Mother said that either it is the last baby, or she castrates Uncle Ilar. She said that even for witches it's hard to bear a child at Aunt Helga's age."

Aiden had always been impressed with Headmistress Ravenclaw's use of vocabulary. It was so… inspiring.

"So who's the new teacher?"

"Some old man from London. I think he was once a Knight, but I can't prove it and Father will not tell me a thing…"

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Aiden could not help but think about Ceri at every waking moment. She was an obsession to him, her face floating in the back of his mind at all times. His friends teased him about his dreaminess, and Einri, whenever the older boy passed him in the halls, gave him knowing looks. It reached a point where he did not know if he could handle it anymore.

He blamed it all on Einri, anyway. His father and Einri, really. They were the ones who had planted the notion that he might look at her differently than just a friend in the first place. They did so with sly remarks, knowing smiles and chuckles, making him double-check every thought that had crossed his mind.

It was almost reluctantly that he had admitted to himself that there might be a grain of truth in their words, but that did not stop him from glaring at his friend whenever he gave him _the wink_.

He soon found himself staring at Ceri whenever she was around him, assessing her figure, considering her fair face, looking deep into her eyes. And every time he caught himself doing so, he would blush and shake himself violently, leaving Ceri looking at him curiously. Sometimes she could be so oblivious.

His brain screamed at him constantly, berating him for his untoward thoughts, beating him mentally whenever he considered her lips. She was fourteen - a baby! She… she… Aiden gulped. She was so _beautiful_.

They were closeted at the top of North Tower in the low-ceilinged circular room one day, sitting close to each other. Today she was wearing a simple green velvet gown, given to her by her Aunt Helga. It proved beyond doubt that she was no longer a little girl, complimenting the figure she had developed during the summer months.

His throat felt parched and he edged closer to her on the padded divan.

"-and this symbol here is supposed to be pronounced _gahk_ - Aiden, are listening to me?" she looked up at him, one of her eyebrows quirked in question. It had then occurred to him that she had been talking for the past hour or so and none of what she had said had been processed by his dazed mind.

"What?" he asked, his head feeling wooly. "Oh. Yes, yes."

"You weren't!" she rightfully accused, irritably pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "And you have a smudge on your face. Here, spit," she handed him her handkerchief.

Obediently, he did.

One of her small hands took hold of his chin, and she pulled his face closer, rubbing the smudge on his cheeks.

She was so close…

"There," she said, satisfied, and let got of him. "Good as new."

He never knew what possessed him to do it. He caught her hand and pulled her to him. Her strangled "Aiden!" went unnoticed as he kissed her tenderly.

He had expected her to pull away. He had expected her to slap him for his insolence. He did _not_ expect her to kiss him back. But she did. She was so young, but suddenly it did not matter anymore. Ceridwen Rhiannon Rosalind Helga Ravenclaw Gryffindor returned his feelings, and that made everything all right again.

In the months that had followed, the two could be found more than often together in secluded corners. Of course, they did their best to _avoid_ being found, but that was beside the point. Aiden was not sure which one of them was the one to start the secrecy issue, but he was more than inclined to admit that it was probably him. He was scared to death of Ceri's brother. Ryan was a tall, muscular young man, and he always kept an eye on his little sister. He had long ago accustomed himself to her friendship with Aiden, but Aiden was certain that he would not look auspiciously on the development in that relationship.

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Aiden was going to be late for class. He just knew he was. How could he have allowed himself to fall asleep was beyond him, and how Ansgar or Alan or Fingal did not wake him was even further beyond. He was probably too tired from the extensive sword training they had before noon meal and the other three could not wake him. Either way, Headmistress Ravenclaw would not look at his tardiness favourably.

Hurrying along, he did not notice the distraught Ceri before his friend had knocked into him, sending him flying a small distance away.

"Oh, Aiden!" she burst, seeing who it was she had walked into. "You have to help me! I don't know what to do! Please!" There was a note of panic in her voice and her hands flailed about uncontrollably.

"Ceri! What is the matter?" he asked in surprise as the girl caught his arm blindly and started pulling him, her expression frightened.

"It's Uncle Salazar!" she wailed. "He and Father are fighting! What should I do? What should I do, Aiden?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

Helpless, he allowed her to pull him to the Entrance Hall, where they came just in time to witness the volatile ending of the two Heads' fight.

**Can you guess what happens next? I'm sure you can! Thank you again to all those who reviewed, and to the ones who gave me cookies and flowers for last chapter ;) much obliged.**

**This is it for this time, my friends. Next update is next Tuesday (like clockwork! If I can make it, that is…), Hope to see you all there!**

**Hugs and kisses to you all!**

**Star of the North**


	27. Broken Dreams

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Oops. This is Star of the North thinking of hitting her head against the wall in shame. In last chapter's A/N I said that the five chapters countdown starts with Ch. 25. Truth is, it starts now. 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. See how foolish that mistake was? So anyway, five last chapters countdown startsssss…. Now!

So, anyhoo, last update I also forgot to wish all my readers very happy holidays (whichever you celebrate) - so, there! I hope you are having fun!

I hope that the jump in years in this chapter will not be too much for you all - but let me know if it was all right, k?

In this chapter: lots of angst and tears… hope you like!

**On a side note:** 1. On Sunday I am going to upload the first chapter of my revised _The Story of Four Friends_. If any of you have read it before, then I hope you will also try the revised version. If anyone who hasn't read the old version (still on the site until I put the revised one up, but I suggest you wait 'til Sunday) is interested, it is a Marauders' fic, told mostly from Remus' PoV, leading all the way from Sep 1, 1971, to Oct 31,1981.

2. Would anyone be interested in reading the story of the founders' parents? You know - the background: Raven Lord, Rosalind, Lords Gryffindor and Slytherin, Ceridwen, the Order of the Knights of the Phoenix and all that? It's just that I've been thinking about it, and if people are interested, then I might just write it… do tell me what you think.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 26 – Broken Dreams**

_"Why do tragedies happen? It is a question asked by many. Sadly, none of those living has an answer to that, and most likely we would never have it. It is one of those things that happen, an integral part of the course of life. An axiom if you would like._

_"Salazar Slytherin had left the school. It had been a great loss and a great tragedy to many, though they would never have admitted it. He had left the school with anger in his heart and resentment to all. All that is important, however, is that he _had_ left, and behind him the school remained. Incomplete, broken, one of its four pillars felled…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

"I don't understand!" Rowena cried, trying to be heard over the two men's roars. "Godric! Salazar! What has gotten into you!" Only ten minutes before she was having an in-depth discussion with her seventh year class about the moralities of using certain charms in a real battle and then a small third year boy burst into the room in actual tears, saying that Headmasters Gryffindor and Slytherin were about ready to kill each other. She had raced there and found them at each other's throats.

It had been imminent in coming. The two friends were on edge for months now, snapping at each other, giving out snide remarks and having loud arguments over nothing. It had been coming for years, if she was honest with herself. But this… this was far worse than anything she could have imagined. The child was not wrong. They looked ready to kill.

"I will have no more of this in my school!"

"Oh, so it's _your_ school now, is it? Not _our_ school - _yours_!"

"You twist my words-"

"This is _our_ school as well as yours, Salazar! You have been overruled and you know it! You've been festering this within you for years now! Why don't you take it in stride and swallow your infernal pride-"

"Oh, so it's _me_ with the overused pride now? Me? You are the one who always jumps into the fray without a second thought and all because of your hell-damned pride! Who do you think is always described as too proud? You! Not me!"

"Well, I do not stop seeing sense because of my pride! You are ruining the school with your words, your curses, _your_ evil!"

"So I'm evil now! Now you put me in league with those dallying in the Dark Arts - it is good to know, Godric, very nice to hear you say that!"

"You know that's not what I meant, Salazar! You have even turned the _students _against one other! Fighting in the halls! Hexing Muggle-born students! You have created this madness, you fool!"

Godric had a point there. The only students hexing Muggle born children were those in Salazar's House, and Rowena, for all her love to her friend, could not excuse that. There was good reason for it, and that was Salazar's prejudice against those of Muggle heritage. While Helga, Godric and herself made sure that their House students would accept the Muggle-born among them, Salazar did not bother hide his distaste to them all and his students, adoring him, followed his lead.

"Those meddlesome brats are corrupting our society - and we're giving them the tools to do so!" Salazar roared, voicing his opinion for the whole school to hear, for now the entire student body, following the sounds of shouting, gathered all about, peeking through doors, standing on the staircase, their faces scared. Some of the younger children looked about to cry. Some did. "Soon enough they will destroy us! There will no longer be a magic community! Only Muggles and those byproducts they have spawned!"

"You are such a pig! _That_ should have been your symbol! A pig with no consideration to no one at all! They are magic - just like us! For Merlin sake's, man! Helga was born to Muggle parents and see how powerful _she_ is! You didn't use to mind her parentage while you were with her, did you? You didn't mind it as long as she gave you her favours!"

In that instant, Rowena knew her husband had gone too far. The silence that followed was the most ominous one she had ever heard. Around them the students held their breaths. Not a sound was uttered as they all watched the exchanged, frozen. Salazar's mouth thinned into a white crack in his chiseled, longish face, his eyes narrowed and he seemed to tower over Godric. He looked menacing. Suddenly he was no longer the good man she had known for all those years, the guardian of her children, her friend.

"You were always a rash, stupid man, Gryffindor," he hissed in anger, his dark eyes shooting sparks. "It will one day destroy you, and I would like to see that, be there when it happens."

"Your arrogance will be the end of _you_, Slytherin," Godric replied, the hate in his voice equal to that in Salazar's. "I wish you will suffer for the rest of your life, knowing that you have ruined all good around you."

With those parting words, the two former friends turned their backs on each other and each strode out of the hall in opposite directions, the eyes of the entire student body following them. For a moment Rowena stood still, her mind racing, trying to decided on whether she needed to follow Salazar and try reconciling him, or go after her husband and calm him, begging that he would ask for Salazar's forgiveness.

Later, she would blame herself for choosing the wrong path. Later, she would think it could all have turned out right. That would be later. Now she made her choice, and there was no going back.

She ran after Godric.

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_How could he? Dear Merlin, how _can_ he?_

As she was standing by Helga on the front steps of Hogwarts, putting a comforting arm around the sobbing woman, Rowena could think nothing else. These thoughts ran over and over in her mind - tumbling, whirling, confusing - and while Helga was crying bitterly, her face contorted, Rowena's own face was blank of emotion. She could not say anything. She could not _feel_.

Godric was nowhere in sight.

She knew all-too-well where he was hiding. He had locked himself in his study and refused to come out, even when Helga came by, crying, saying that Salazar was packing his things. She had attempted to coax him into getting out, apologizing to Salazar, trying to amend things with him, even for a little before they could sit down and talk like civilized people, see how they could resolve their differences. She had tried to beg him to put a stop to it - prevent Salazar from leaving. It had all been in vain.

"Leave me be!" he had roared as she tried tugging him into a stop that afternoon when she had finally caught up with him. "I will not exchange another word with that scoundrel."

Later, when he had already locked himself in the study, she had pleaded with him, but his words were harsh and she had given up, defeated. And then Helga had arrived and they had left Godric there, going to try and convince Salazar to stay.

They had failed.

She felt so numb, so helpless, as she watched his distant figure riding away. Over twenty years of friendship, ending like that, in hatred and resentment. After all they have been through, after all the trials they had lived through, after everything - how could he just _leave_?

She felt a single tear escaping her tight control, sliding down her cheek. She could not allow her control to break. Not just yet. If only for Helga's sake. She could not fall into pieces. The school now hung on a thread, uncertain, its fate unclear. One of the four founders of the fabled establishment has left it. The stout four pillars that were the basis of the school were now three, and everything tittered on the brink of utter destruction and chaos. Godric isolated himself and Helga was broken. It all depended on her. Somehow, she had to pull them all through.

How she wished now that her own mother was there to help her. _She_ always knew what to do. _She_ always was in control of every situation. But that great lady was long gone now and she was left alone to handle Hogwarts. Ceridwen would not be able to help her this time; she did not know anything about running a school. She was alone. So completely alone.

Damming her tears, she gently squeezed her friend's shoulder and with light pressure to her arm, started steering her in the direction of her quarters. She registered children standing in various corridors of the Castle, all silently watching them go by. She knew that they all wondered what would happen now. She wished she could give them an answer. She wished she could comfort them. But how could she, when she could not even find comfort herself? Her mind was teeming with unanswered questions, half-formed ideas and mostly with a lot of confusion. Her mind refused to work.

Still numb, she finally brought Helga to the door of the quarters she shared with Ilar and all their children. Without even knocking, she opened it and wordlessly handed the almost motionless woman to the waiting arms of Ilar, whose face was sad and understanding. He had known of Helga and Salazar's past relationship and he knew how much the brooding man still meant to his wife, but he was a good man and would take care of Helga, do his best to make the sadness go away.

Nodding at the man, Rowena turned away, her face stony, her mind now set. Hogwarts had do go on, and by Merlin, she would make sure it did. Determinedly, she set her steps back to her quarters.

When she entered the rooms that had been her home and sanctuary for almost twenty years she found Ryan and Ceri sitting in the main chamber, staring mutely at her, holding hands. She knew they would be expecting her, expecting some sort of explanation. She remembered seeing Ceri, standing at the top of the grand staircase, clutching Aiden's arm as she watched her father and uncle fight, the panicked, tear-stained expression on her face. She remembered Ryan, standing motionless by her side as she tried stopping the two men from fighting. What would she tell them? What could she tell her children?

"Not now," she said curtly. "It would have to wait. Is he still in there?"

Ryan nodded, looking upset. Ceri blinked back tears.

With conviction that she did not really feel, she smiled at her children and said "Everything will be all right." It seemed to be enough for the two, for they relaxed considerably. Rowena only wished she could do the same.

Waiting not a moment longer, she tried the door to Godric's study again. This time it was unlocked. Taking a deep breath, she entered, closing the door quietly behind her, not wanting the children to overhear what may or may not transpire between them.

"Godric?"

He did not move when she called. He was standing by the window, his eyes fixed on the distant hills where nothing could be seen. She knew he had been watching. Watching as Salazar left, saying a mournful goodbye to the man who had been his friend, wordlessly, in his heart. Too proud, people often called Godric Gryffindor. And it was true. He was too proud to admit he wished to say farewell, too proud to amend a situation that, while not entirely his fault, only he could put right. If only he had the humility to go to Salazar, everything would have looked different, but she knew her husband too well. And now there was no going back.

"Godric? Please look at me. This is important."

Still he did not turn, but the tiniest of changes in his posture alerted her to the fact that he was listening. It was good enough. If he was willing to listen, he was still aware of his surroundings.

"Godric, Hogwarts must go on. We cannot let our life's work to fall into pieces like that. We worked too hard and too long for everything to be destroyed by this. Helga is broken, and I don't know how well _you_ truly hold, but I can do it. All I want to know is: do you _want_ Hogwarts to go on? Because if you don't… Well, then there is no point in even trying. I can continue while the two of you recuperate, but I would not last long by myself. Are you willing to take the risk? Is there a point in holding Hogwarts open?"

For a while he did not say a thing. She could see he was uneasy, undecided, but unable to see his face, she could not possibly fathom what his decision will be. She did not know how long they both stood there, him staring out of the window, she staring at him, but at long last, he breathed deeply and still without turning, his voice choked, said "Hogwarts must go on."

It was all she needed. Without another word, she left, knowing that Godric would need to face this alone, that there was nothing she could do to help. It hurt her immensely not being able to assist him at such a time of need, but she knew it would hurt him even more were she to try and help.

_Too proud,_ she thought to herself as she prepared herself to explain things to her children. _Why does he have to be so damnably proud?_

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With the help of the few other teachers who had been brought over the years, Rowena managed to keep Hogwarts going through the rest of that year. It was not easy, to say the least. Suddenly the work of four was thrust on the shoulders of one, and while she no doubt was qualified to do her part of managing of the school, she could not shoulder the entire burden for long. They had to close a few classes, the students had many free hours and were expected to work by themselves, something that did not always work, and the level of some lessons was lower than standard because of teachers who did not know the subject as well as the original teacher. Schedules had to be changed, lesson plans altered. New, qualified teachers had to be found and requested to come for the next year. Someone had to be responsible for Salazar's students.

Strangely enough, soon after Salazar's departure, the chaotic rivalry between the Houses subsided somewhat. Muggle-born students were no longer hexed in the corridors, and other clashes of wills became more and more scarce. The entire school seemed to fall into a stunned daze, the air around it becoming depressed and quiet.

However, it was only for a few months, and even though at the end of that time Rowena was so worn out that she was often on the verge of hysterics, in her speech to the students at the end of the year, she assured them that by the beginning of the next school year, everything would be back to normal. She had no intention to allow Godric and Helga to wallow in their self misery for longer than that, she simply could not handle it alone anymore. She was determined that by the end of the summer months, Hogwarts would be back to its routine, even if she would have to drag her friend and her husband by the hair into their classrooms.

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After all those months of tight control, months where she displayed no emotion, keeping herself strong and solid for the sake of the students while she allowed Godric and Helga time to recover, being their firm rock in a sea of change, it was the sorting ceremony of the new year that had broken Rowena.

They were all sitting there on the raised dais, watching as their aging Ancient Runes teacher called the names of the children about to be sorted, Helga and Godric finally out of their cocoons, interested in what was going on in the school once more, and then she found herself glancing to her side, where Salazar always sat, whispering dry remarks on the various new students, and instead of finding her friend, she found empty space, and across, the matronly face of the new teacher she herself had asked to come and take Salazar's place in the potion brewing class. Without warning, tears flooded her eyes and with a soft apology to her startled husband, she excused herself and hurried into the small antechamber behind the dais, where she allowed herself to break down and cry.

She could not face a sorting ceremony without him there, not yet. Students would still be sorted into the House of Slytherin, but Salazar himself would never again watch it happen. She buried her face in one of the pillows on the divan by the fireplace and allowed all the pent-up emotion she had accumulated throughout the months burst in that flood of tears.

Again, those questions that she had suppressed for so long filled her mind. Doubt and fear that there may have been something she could have done to change it. She could not believe that only a year ago they had all sat laughing after the sorting ceremony, comparing their impressions of the new students, with Ceri and Ryan and Helga's older children making insulted faces at what their parents said of their peers, then laughing on them just as badly. She could not believe that only a year ago everything was still all right, still complete. How could they have let this happen?

How could _she_ have let it happen?

The tears, regret and sorrow surrounded her, choked her, made her wish that she could just lose her consciousness and be happily oblivious to everything. She was the one who could have made the change. She just knew it had always been in her hands. How could she have failed them like that? How could she allow it to go so horribly wrong?

Body-racking sobs escaped her tight control of months, all dams broken. The pillow under her face was soaked with those tears, making her cry even harder, lose what little control she still had. Ever since she was very little she had kept a lid on her emotions. It was only on very rare occasions that she had cried so bitterly, and this time was worse than all those events combined.

It could have been five minutes or even five hours, but some time later, when her tears somewhat subsided, she felt someone sitting by her side on the divan and then gathering her in their arms. She would have recognized those arms anywhere.

And so, Godric held his broken wife in his arms until she could no longer cry, until her grief had finally been allowed to run its course. She would mend, one day, but right now, she needed that outlet. She needed that pain.

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Rowena was tired. No. She was so much more than simply tired. She was exhausted and her head ached, but her day was not over yet. She still had accounts to balance, payments to record. The economic side of running Hogwarts had always been hers to tidy up. The others would not go near it.

Maybe she was simply getting old, but the happenings of the past few years left her without much in the way of energy. All the enthusiasm she held for teaching and running the school had slowly ebbed away when yet another year had passed and things got steadily worse, starting with Ambrosius' attack on the Castle and ending with Salazar's angry departure almost three years prior.

"Godric?" she called, massaging her temples with her fingertips. "Where is Ceri?"

Her husband's muffled voice came from the direction of the bedchamber. "I don't know. I haven't seen her since dinner was served. Shall I go look for her?"

"No, don't. I'll go. I need to clear my head from all these accounts. How in Merlin's name am I supposed to know how much two bags of un-dyed yarn and a goat are worth?"

"You are asking the wrong person, dear. Accounts are your department," Godric said in a rather cheerful voice. So much for help from her dear husband. "I can't promise I'll be here when you get back, love. Ilar and I are going to get drunk down in the village."

"You mean _Ilar_ is going to get drunk and _you_ are going to carry him all the way home to Helga and then gloat tomorrow morning when he has a splitting headache, don't you?"

"Probably."

"You _do_ remember the days when it was _you_ being carried up the stairs, almost comatose, don't you? Show some sympathy to the poor man."

He laughed openly at that. "He's a grown man, love. He can take care of himself. One day he'll learn. They all do. Have a good night, dear. I will see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight," she replied, picking up her cloak. She then went outside into the cold halls. One thing that got better with Godric throughout the years, she mused, was his affinity for ale. As he grew older he learned to dislike the headache that accompanied each foray into Calanthe's tavern, and nowadays made do with one cup per night, leaving the getting drunk part to his younger friend.

"Now where did you go to, Ceri?" she muttered to herself, her thoughts turning once more to her little daughter. "I do hope you are not doing what I think you're doing."

Her daughter was already seventeen and she had grown up along boys all her life. The girl had learned the differences between boys and girls very early on, and had been very close to one specific boy in all her years as a student. Very close indeed.

Rowena did not really mind that closeness, but there were certain limits even to her own open-mindedness. She had a feeling that Ceri was very near crossing at least one line, and she hoped to stop her before it would be too late.

She prowled the halls, keeping her ears open. After a while she heard something. A girl's laughter followed by a young man's low chuckle.

She stopped in her tracks and closed her eyes for a moment. She had no doubt concerning the matter. That was her little one in there - most likely doing something she herself did not do until her mid-twenties. She felt compelled to make sure, however, and carefully peeked around the corner.

Ceri was standing with her back pressed against the wall. Her alabaster arms exposed as her dark-blue sleeves fell from her wrists. One of her hands was playing with the golden hairs at the nape of a young man's neck, while the other was on his back, bringing him closer to her.

One of the man's arms was encircling Ceri's waist. The other was somewhere between their bodies. Rowena dreaded to think what it was doing there.

The couple's lips were firmly attached and it was obvious to Rowena that this was not the first time they had done such a thing.

Tactfully, she silently retreated down the hall and came back stomping and calling "Ceri! Are you here? Ceri!"

By the time she reached the corner and turned into the adjoining hall, her daughter had already managed to smooth her gown, get her hair back into place and look as though she was only having a normal, friendly, and above all, _proper_ conversation with Aiden, who appeared to be completely unflustered.

She silently commended the two for their quick reactions.

"There you are, dear!" Rowena said in an overly-cheerful voice. "Your father and I were starting to get worried. It's getting late."

"Of course, Mother," Ceri said demurely, making Rowena fight the urge to snort. "Goodnight, Aiden. I shall see you tomorrow morning in Runes then, shall I?"

Aiden nodded curtly, and with a brief bow to Rowena, hurried down the hall and back to the Ravenclaw House residence.

Ceri and Rowena turned the other way back to their own rooms. They walked in silence for a while. All that time Rowena listened to Aiden's footsteps. When she deemed them far enough, she said "You are lucky I insisted on going after you myself. You father would have killed him."

Ceri stopped walking. "You… you _know_?" she stuttered, her seemingly unconcerned face losing colour rapidly.

This time Rowena _did _snort. "Dear child, if you do not wish to get caught, don't kiss your man in an open corridor. I saw more than I would have liked tonight. Listen to me, Ceri, and listen carefully. I want you to watch your step. It's clear to me that you have future plans concerning this boy, but don't let me catch you at it again - and most certainly do not let your father and brother catch you, because then Aiden is a dead man. Are we clear?"

"You…you will not tell Father?" Ceri asked in a small voice.

"Do I have a reason to tell him?" Rowena asked archly.

Ceri walked in silence the rest of the way. When she walked to the room she shared with Ryan, she had a thoughtful expression on her face.

Rowena lay awake in the big bed she shared with Godric for hours after. She did not know what time it was when he came back, opening the door to the bedchamber as silently as he possibly could, but as he crawled under the blankets, she pulled him near and held him tight.

"'Wena?" he asked in surprise. "Why are you still awake?"

She did not reply at first, only tightened her hold on him. When he encircled her waist with his arms, she buried her face in his chest and mumbled "Why do they have to grow up so quickly?"

He did not answer her question, but the tightening of his arms around her was all the answer she needed.

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The next morning, when Godric and Rowena were eating breakfast in the main chamber of their rooms, Ryan came in, looking flustered.

"You're up early," Godric commented casually, spreading butter over his bread. "Fell out of bed?"

"You could say that," their eldest grumbled, ruffling his already-ruffled hair in an agitated movement. "I've been _pushed_ out of bed. Is something wrong with Ceri? She came to sleep in my bed last night, and she only does that when she's upset. Did she and Aiden have a fight or something? That's what happened last time. I can go and knock some sense into him if that's the problem."

Rowena nearly choked on her tea. She had to steer the conversation away from that boy. "It's nothing, Ryan," she said. "She was just a little depressed yesterday - a girl's thing. Is she still asleep?"

"Yes, Mother. Should I wake her?"

"No, leave her be. I will have a word with her later on - and for Merlin's sake, boy, leave Aiden alone. I'm sure he has nothing to do with this. I've seen them yesterday and they were on perfectly friendly terms. Go mind your own business."

"What are you up to today, anyway?" Godric asked, putting aside his plate.

"The lads and I are going to do a bit of clearing in the area - we heard rumours that some of Ambrosius' old supporters are hiding in the vicinity of the Castle again - trying to get to you. I'll see you tonight, then?"

Rowena did not approve of her son and his cohorts' favourite pastime. However, they had discussed it many times over, and she knew well enough that he will agree to anything she says, and then will go and do whatever it was he had planned on doing anyway. And so, all she said was "Be careful, dear. Some of those people have significant talent."

"I know, Mother," he said with a grin that spoke volumes. "That's what makes it so fun."

"He's your son, no doubt about that," Rowena complained to Godric. "Only someone from your line would be so recklessly _careless_."

He shrugged with a slight smile, buttering another piece of bread.

When Ryan left, Rowena sighed. "When will this be _over_? Ambrosius has been dead for almost sixteen years. Isn't it about time this will die out?"

Godric put down his knife and looked at her with his piercing blue gaze. "It will not be over for a long time, love. What we did had immense implications on the entire Wizarding World. The magic community here had to start _everything_ over. Billius and Gaius had to pull the Council from the ashes after Ambrosius died, and things are still not as stable as they should be. We may have done them a great favour by eliminating Ambrosius, but there are still those who believe we were in the wrong. If you ask me - and I could be wrong, mind you - we should expect these attempts on our lives to last until the day we die."

"I was afraid you might say that," she groaned.

He simply smiled and went back to his breakfast.

Time passed, and even though she always kept an eye out for them, Rowena did not stumble across her daughter and Aiden again. She was torn between satisfaction that the girl was smart enough to heed her warning about Godric and Ryan and anxiousness she had never felt before, afraid of what else the two might be doing.

When she could no longer bear the ignorance, she settled Ceri down in the drawing room where she knew Godric and Ryan would not be able to overhear her, and then gave her profusely blushing daughter a very detailed, blunt and informative lecture about what she may and may not do with Aiden, and the consequences that will follow were she ever to find out that the two young people had disobeyed her.

While she did not mind them experimenting, there were certain lines she would not allow to be crossed.

Ryan and Godric remained oblivious to the whole matter.

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It was sometimes in early autumn that year, before the cold completely set in, that something happened to change Rowena's once again tranquil set of mind that she had regained with difficulty after Salazar's departure all those years before.

She was in the Great Hall, instructing her sixth years in the art of Apparition that day, gradually becoming more and more frustrated by the incompetence of some of her students. She was in the middle of a lecture to one of the children who had left a foot behind for the tenth time that week.

"-you simply can't let your mind _wander_! How many times do I have to repeat it? If you want to learn how to Apparate, you have to learn to do it properly. You have to-"

"Headmistress! Headmistress!" a voice cried out from the open doors leading to the Entrance Hall.

"What is it?" she asked irritably, putting down her wand, ignoring the boy's pleading looks for her to fix his leg again.

"You have just received a letter from London!" the villager who had hailed her huffed, trying to regain his breath, leaning heavily on the doorframe.

_London…_ there was only one person who could possibly write to her - and just to her - from London, and elicit such a hurried response from the village. There was no other possibility. It had to be him. Her heart ached. She could not believe it had been three years since that day. They had not heard from him ever since. So the question asked - why now?

"Class…" she let out, her voice coming in a breathy gasp. "Class dismissed. No homework. Go. _Go!_" With a hasty wave of her wand she fixed the boy's leg and shooed him off.

The frightened students scampered out of the hall. She took the sealed parchment from the villager's hand. He, too, hurried out, not wishing to know why the Headmistress was so upset. It was well known that one did _not_ mess with Mistress Ravenclaw when she was agitated.

Rowena looked at the parchment for a long time, biting her lip as she stared at the Slytherin seal embossed in the green wax. How long was it since she had seen this seal? She remembered Salazar making it, molding a piece of metal into that shape. She could not bring herself to break it just yet.

Finally, after a long while, she made her decision. With trembling hands she raised her wand, slit the parchment open and skimmed through the first few lines.

Her mouth opened in a silent cry of alarm.

"_Godric!_" she then screamed. "_Helga!_"

Her husband and her friend were by her side within seconds, already informed by the sixth year students that she was in some sort of distress.

"What is it?" Godric asked gently, squeezing her shoulder to reassure her. "Is it Dahlia?"

Rowena shook her head. "Salazar," she whispered.

"_My dear Rowena,_" the letter read in the curly handwriting that was so unmistakably Salazar's own. "_I know it is too late to say I'm sorry for the wrongs I have wrought on our poor school and their disastrous implications on our friendship, but I have decided that I have to ask for your forgiveness, no matter the price. Too long have I waited to do so, that I know. That forgiveness means more to me that you can ever know - whether you offer it or not._

"_I can only imagine how angry Godric still is with me. I have done him a great wrong, and I hope he can see that even though we had that miserable falling out three years ago I still care for him and love him as a brother. I do not deserve his love in return, but I know you understand why I must let him know this truth. True brotherhood never dies - not even when we attempt to quench it and suffocate it with our own hands. Believe me, I tried hard throughout these past three years._

"_As for my Helga… every time I think of her I hurt. We had such a great future ahead of us, and I let her slip away. I do not begrudge her choosing Ilar anymore, and I know that the blame is all on me, for I am the one who sent her away. I still feel for her the same as I felt that day so long ago when I lied to her and told her I can never love her the way she wants. Were I able to take it all away, were I able to turn back time, I would have done just that. Merlin knows how much it had cost us all._

"_I miss you all, Rowena, and every day separately tears me further apart. We spent a great deal of our lives together, and your absence kills me. I mean that, Rowena._

"_I am dying, Rowena. The knowledge of this is what led me into writing this long overdue letter. A wise man once said, I hear, that it is important for a dying man to have peace in his soul before the end. I am restless. I have no peace. My soul is homeless and travel-weary. It aches for friendship long lost and for the touch of a loving hand. It hungers for the soothing word of family and for a breath from the past, to revive it one last time before the last, long journey._

"_I, more than anyone else, know I have no right to ask this of you, but I ask it nonetheless._

"_Come to me, Rowena, just this one last time. I have need of seeing a familiar, friendly face before I die. Please come, for my time is short. There are many things I need to share with you, and even if you refuse to put my soul in peace, the mere sight of your face would make it all better, if not complete._

"_I would like to see Helga and Godric one last time as well, but I know beyond doubt that there is no way that either of them would come to my deathbed. Not after the manner in which our ways parted._

"_I beg you nonetheless to convey them both my undying love._

"_Hoping to see you again, one last time, eternally yours in friendship,_

"_Salazar Ailill Searlas Slytherin._"

**Oh, dear. I did it again. Evil cliffie of sorts… sorry. Will make it better on Tuesday. So anyway, thanks very much to all those who reviewed, and if I neglected answering your review for some reason - I'm sorry, but thank you all the same! You're great, the lot of you!**

**Hugs and kisses to you all!**

**Star of the North**


	28. Falling Apart

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** My most sincere apologies for posting this chapter this late on Tuesday. I am afraid that circumstances did not allow me to upload it earlier - my hand is… somewhat damaged and in pain, so it was hard for me to type. Forgive me?

Either way, shorter chapter than usual, but I think that there's a limit to the amount of angst one can consume in one chapter - don't you? Things _will_ lighten up before the end of this story, I promise you all, but this chapter and the next are not going to be very happy ones. Sorry. I hope you will enjoy them all the same…

Tell me what you think!

**Chapter 27 – Falling Apart**

_"The question of what Salazar Slytherin did after his departure from the Castle of Hogwarts is still mostly unanswered. We know that he had left the region of Scotland as quickly as he possibly could and fled south. Where he ended up after all those years, is uncertain. Some say that he settled in a small village north-west of London. Some say he traveled into London itself and hid himself among the society of that town. Others went as far as to suggest that he had taken refuge in a monastery, but most modern researchers rule out that theory as preposterous._

_"All we know for certain, through the records kept in the school's registry, is that close to the assumed time of Salazar's demise, the other three Founders left the school at the same time, not returning for two days - long enough time to visit their dying friend._

_"What actually came to pass is unknown, but we may assume that they have reconciled their differences…"_

**-Hogwarts, A history; Author unknown**

Helga was restless. After reading the letter Salazar had sent Rowena, she wordlessly left the hall, knowing that the others would go to ponder the meaning of it alone soon after. She did not know what to think, her mind and heart were in such turmoil, that she could not think clearly, could not form thoughts in her head. She wanted to laugh bitterly at the cruel twist of fate. She wanted to cry and let out all the pain she felt.

Salazar was dying. Her wonderful Salazar, for whom she still held love, was dying. It was unthinkable, inconceivable. She could stand having him away, she could stand the separation, but for the life of her she could not stand to think him dead. Gone for ever.

What was he _thinking_? In the name of all that he held sacred, what was Salazar _thinking_ when he had left? Maybe he did not mean to leave for ever. Maybe he only wanted to let the distance soften the hearts of them all. Maybe he needed some time to himself. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

She barely resisted the urge to punch a wall as hard as she could. The frustration she felt at seeing those words - ink on parchment - started building within her, looking for a way out.

_I would like to see Helga and Godric one last time…_

She did not say anything to the agitated Rowena, but she wanted to see him one last time as well. She could not let twenty years of companionship, not to speak of a decade of love, disappear as though they had never existed. She wanted to say farewell, if nothing else, or perhaps offer her forgiveness to the stricken man. She was a compassionate woman. She could not let someone's suffering bypass her without responding to it, trying to make everything better.

But then… he had _left_ them. He had done so many bad things. He had initiated the attacks on the Muggle-born students and he had fanned the flames of prejudice and hate. He had left without a word of remorse, without an admittance of regret. He had very nearly destroyed the work of two decades in a blink of an eye. Did he deserve clemency? Did he deserve to be given the chance to cleanse his soul before dying? Did he deserve having Godric and herself visit his deathbed? Did he deserve being seen as a human being?

Entering her quarters, she found Rhian helping Albin with his runes, Heddwyn telling a story to Arianrohd and Dewydd, and her youngest girl, Eydis, fast asleep by the fireplace. Ilar was nowhere to be found, possibly in the village, helping his father with this or that. It was not that she minded him leaving Rhian and Heddwyn in charge of their little brothers and sisters, but the fact that he was not there at that specific moment irked her. She needed support. She needed someone to help her make up her mind. She knew Ilar would not be biased, even though he had known all about the relationship once shared between his wife and Salazar. He was a good man. But where _was_ he when she needed help?

Smiling at her children despite her inner turmoil, she crossed the main chamber and into the bedchamber. Once there, with the door safely shut behind her, she began pacing back and forth, trying to reason with herself. The only problem was that she did not know with what side she should reason. She did not know what she wanted to do.

With a sigh of despair, she allowed herself to fall on the bed. Lying with her back on the covers, she stared at the ceiling, remembering, calling back memories of years past. She did not shy away from the bad recollections. She brought them up from the recesses of her memory, putting them on an imaginary scale in her mind. On the other side she piled all her good memories, of times shared alone with Salazar, of times scolding him as he grinned boyishly at her, of times she nagged him to eat because he had forgotten to do so in his spur of creativity… there were so many memories to sift through and choose, so many years together.

The scale tipped.

She made up her mind.

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"I'm coming with you," Helga said firmly as she entered Rowena and Godric's bedchamber mere hours after the letter had arrived, her face set. Rowena, who had been busily packing a small bag with necessities as Helga knew she would be, stopped and looked up at her, one eyebrow quirked up in question.

"I want to say goodbye," she explained softly, not needing Rowena to voice the question evident in her eyes. "Tell him that I do not hate him. Rowena, I could not live with myself if he were to die thinking I hate him. He still means so much to me. I could not bear it."

One side of Rowena's mouth rose in a sad sort of smile. She did not say anything. She did not need to. Sitting on the bed, feeling strangely relieved that Rowena did not question her reason, Helga looked around her. She half-expected seeing Godric standing by the door, scowling at his wife and her decision. He was not there, however, and her curiosity won over.

"Where is he?"

"Hmm?" Rowena mumbled distractedly, seemingly finding it hard to decide whether she would need her heavy cloak or not.

"Godric. Where is he?"

"Oh," she said, returning the cloak to the heavy, carved wooden chest by the east wall. She turned to face Helga and shook her head. "I don't know. After you went away he strode off without another word. I didn't even get the chance to look at his face, so I cannot even _guess_ as to what is going on in his head. I haven't seen him since."

"Did he… give any indication that he would be coming?"

Rowena made a face that showed her helplessness and uncertainty. "As I said, I didn't see his face. He's a closed book to me when I can't even see what his eyes are saying. The chances are equal either way. He was hurt badly by Salazar's departure. It had been worse for him than it had been for you, even. I can't even _begin_ to fathom how much pain he felt at what Salazar had said back then. I don't know, Helga. I really can't tell."

"Well, then. I'll go packing then, shall I?"

"Do that. I will meet you in an hour's time by the front doors. I will just have a quick word with the others, tell them where we are going and how long they will need to be without us. Then I need to hunt down Ceri and Ryan and tell them they are on their own for a little while - I don't know how Godric is at the moment. I will ask them to help Ilar with the little ones, if you want. They're always happy spending time with Eydis, Dewydd and Arianrohd - not to mention Albin, Heddwyn and Rhian. They will have the time of their lives."

Nodding her thanks, Helga went back to her quarters. Again finding Ilar to be absent, she shortly told Rhian that she was in charge until their father's return, and instructed her to tell him that she had gone to bid farewell to an old friend. She also said that if they needed help, then they should immediately go to Ryan and Ceri, who were older than them all. That done, she packed a few things she deemed essential for the trip and soon was ready to go, physically, if not mentally.

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"Ready?" Rowena asked her with a sad smile, echoing the question that still lingered in Helga's mind.

Was she ready? She was far from certain concerning that. But looking at her friend, and remembering what she had felt upon reading the letter, she knew she was not about to back out of it. She may not be ready, but she would go through with it.

"Yes," she said firmly, assuring herself.

"Are we leaving now?"

Both women turned in alarm at the voice which came from behind them. Helga could barely stop the small smile that tried to appear on her lips. She should have known. Behind them, leaning on the doorframe of the Great Hall, was Godric, a bag slung over his shoulder, his sword buckled to his waist and his clothes simple and fit to travel. His face was calm, but she knew all too well that he had spent the past few hours agonizing over his decision just as she had. She was glad to see that he had made the right choice.

"What?" he asked, answering the surprised expression on his wife's face. "Did you think I would let my best friend since childhood die like that without saying farewell?"

Rowena did not say anything. Instead, she closed the distance between them and kissed him soundly, making Helga turn around with a flushed face. It had been a very long time since the two had shown affection to each other publicly. She was no longer accustomed to it.

"You've grown up," she heard Rowena softly tell Godric.

"I had to learn the hard way," he replied, just as softly. "My damned pride cost me too much already. I'm not about to let it stop me now."

"Good," Helga said, interrupting the couple's private moment. "Then I suggest we get moving. We have a friend to visit. We would not want to be late."

This comment, though it was supposed to be flippant, sobered their mood immediately. Reading between the lines of Salazar's letter, his time was extremely short. For the first time since that letter had arrived, Helga's mind focused on the fact that it may already be too late, and that by the time they would arrive London, all they would find would be a freshly dug grave. Salazar was never one to overestimate the severity of a situation. If he said that he had little time, then it was true.

Swallowing the lump that had risen up her throat, she determinedly shook the tears that were imminent in coming, and, not waiting for her friends, walked through the double doors and into the afternoon air which suddenly felt bitterly cold.

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Apparating once they had left the perimeter of the Apparition Shield, the three friends found themselves outside a farm in a foreign landscape.

"Where are we?" Godric asked Rowena, who was the one to direct their shift through the long distance.

"Outside Sir Cedric's home, north-west of London," she replied. "He and his family have been running this farm for years now. Mother told me about it at one time, saying that he was a very hospitable man and that he knows everything there is to know about the London magic society. If anyone can tell us where we can find Salazar, he is the man."

"It's been years since last we've heard from him," Godric said. "His grandchildren should be old enough for school in a short while, no?"

"Possibly, but we're not looking for more students at the moment, Godric. Let us go in."

Helga, who had remained quiet all the while, followed her two friends into the clean, wide court in front of the farmhouse.

Sir Cedric was just as loud and boisterous as she had remembered him to be from the days of the confrontation with the Council. Albeit older and much slower due to certain problems that come with advancing age, the man did not lose his charm, nor did he lose his tendency to tell embarrassing stories at the most unfortunate of times. At seeing them standing on his doorstep, he immediately invited them to spend the night and then borrow horses from him in the morning and he would direct them to where they would find their missing friend.

Though anxious of the wasted time, all three were aware that it was much too late to start the journey to London, which would take several more hours. Reluctantly, they accepted Sir Cedric's invitation, and spent the night with him and his family.

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Early morning found the three riding on their way to the house of Salazar Slytherin. Helga sat drooped in her saddle, silently thanking Sir Cedric for letting her borrow the very docile dappled mare she was riding. She did not think she could handle the feisty stallion Godric had been given, or even the spirited, long-legged mare Rowena was riding. She had had a horrible night, restless and sleepless, and she could only barely keep her eyes open.

Whenever she had closed her eyes that night, she saw Salazar's face, pained, lined, old. She could see him suffering. She could see him dying. Those visions did not let her sleep. They did not allow her a moment's rest, and now they haunted her waking hours as well. As they neared London she could see his form in every tree stump they bypassed, in every bush and every cloud. She thought she was becoming insane, that she was losing her grip on the sane, normal world.

It was a quiet journey. None of them felt like saying anything. Helga knew they all had the same fear in mind. They all dreaded finding that grave instead of their friend. They dreaded being too late.

Even the weather seemed to portray their bleak frame of mind. It was autumn, and the falling leaves, the cast sky and the light drizzle that started falling sometimes during midmorning did nothing to lift their dampened spirits. The wind whistled, the sound of its passing reminiscent of a cry of a banshee, telling of a man's death. Even nature wept for their lost friend.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rowena reined in her horse, closely followed by Godric and Helga.

"This must be it," she said weakly, barely heard above the howl of the wind. "We have followed Sir Cedric's directions. This _has_ to be it."

Standing there on a small rise of the ground, the three friends stayed motionless for a long time, none of them daring to be the first to lead their horse down to the house that was right before them, on the very outskirts of magic London.

Helga tried to make her mare move, but found her hands not responding. Her body conspired against her. She did not know what stopped her. Was it fear? Perhaps. But fear of what? Now that she was being honest with herself, only a short ride away from _his_ house, she could not be sure anymore if it was the fear of finding him dead. She was afraid of something entirely different. She was afraid of rejection.

What if the letter was sent to Rowena with no intention of really wishing to see Helga again? What if he had only meant it figuratively and would turn his back on her when he would catch glimpse of her face? She knew she had hurt him badly, but he had hurt her even more. And who was to say who was right after all this while? She certainly could not.

Still standing there, she helplessly looked at the house, knowing, defeated, that she could not make that final step. Not by herself.

Without a warning, startling both women, Godric shook his reins, and sent his steed flying down the rise. Looking Helga's way, Rowena shrugged with a soft smile and followed.

Helga was left alone on the rise. She was still frozen in place, not sure of whether she should follow them or remain there until they returned. As it turned out, it was not her choice to make.

The mare, being the submissive, docile animal she was, followed the leader of her pack, not needing Helga to touch the reins even once. Eyes wide, Helga found herself riding beside Rowena and Godric, and finally arriving at journey's end.

As they neared the gate of the low thatched stone cottage that was their destination, she felt her heart hammering loudly in her chest. She had not felt so since the first day Salazar had kissed her - when she was just an innocent young girl. The cottage was deceptively beautiful, effectively hiding the tragedy she was sure would soon occur within its walls. She kept her tears in check, but she knew that the dam she created would not hold for long.

The carefully carved stones fitted together almost seamlessly, the trademark of a wealthy wizarding home. The smooth wall was clean and had no blemishes of weather, but from the heavy cover of ivy hanging from it, she knew it must be much older than it appeared to be. Not exactly the place she expected to find Salazar Slytherin in.

Dismounting the horses, they tethered them to the fence surrounding the cottage. The small gate opened at Rowena's light touch, not a squeak marking their passage into the well-kept garden surrounding the small house. A bee buzzed past as they walked down the carefully weeded cobblestone trail leading to the front door, making its way to the meticulous vegetable patch to one side, where magically kept tomatoes and cucumbers grew out of season.

There were flowerbeds surrounding the walls, and in the open windows, lace curtains stirred in the light breeze. It felt too feminine to Helga. Men rarely bothered with such things.

The hammering of Helga's heart intensified as Rowena walked determinedly up the single step before the door and firmly knocked on the weathered wood.

Time stopped.

Then hurried footsteps were heard, and she could hear a latch being moved.

Expecting to see Salazar, though considering he was dying, she realized later what a foolish thought _that_ had been, she was morbidly shocked to see a rather young woman in the opening.

The woman had short, curly blond hair, gathered in a head kerchief. The curls that escaped the kerchief bounced prettily to either side of a heart-shaped, freckled face, in which a pair of eyes was a warm brown. She was wearing a simple gown of fine, brown cloth, covered by a big apron, stained with various substances. She was small and dainty, and appeared to be of a rather sunny disposition normally, but now her eyes were red-rimmed and there were dark patches under her eyes. She was exhausted.

_Maybe she is a neighbour coming to assist an ill man…_

"How may I help you?" she asked quietly, her voice cracked with fatigue.

_Maybe she is a woman whom Salazar had hired to help him in his illness…_

"Is this the house of Salazar Slytherin?" Rowena asked confidently.

_Maybe she is the landlady of this house and he is only a lodger here…_

"It is," the woman said with a slight nod of her fair head. "I am Maeve Slytherin. His wife."

_No._

Until that very moment Helga had still believed that he had remained unattached, that his heart, though broken, was still hers. Her heart broke. He really _had_ given her up. She ignored the nagging voice telling her that she had given him up earlier.

"I see," Rowena said, not giving sign to the surprise that she must have felt at hearing that. Helga knew that there was no way Rowena could have known because of the way her friend's half-clenched fingers straightened and then curled again. Rowena was uncomfortable.

"Did you know he got married, Wena?" Godric asked, not masking his surprise.

"No. I never received word of him until that last letter," Rowena replied and returned her attention to the waiting Maeve. "I'm sorry. We did not know that Salazar was married, it caught us a little by surprise."

"We only married two years ago," Maeve said, pain marking her eyes. "I never thought it would end so quickly."

"Don't say that!" Helga found herself crying out, and then cursing herself for drawing the woman's attention.

The brown eyes focused on her, taking in her countenance and figure. Maeve surveyed them all, her eyes widening at the quality of their traveling clothes, at their proud horses, standing by her garden gate, at Godric's sword. "Who _are_ you all?" she asked in a very small, awed voice. "How do you know my Salazar?"

"I am Rowena Ravenclaw," Rowena introduced herself, sending only a quick warning glance in Helga's direction. "These are Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff. We are old friends of Salazar."

"How can you be old friends of his, if he had never mentioned you?" the younger woman demanded fiercely, suddenly suspicious. "He always maintained he had no connections! You lie!"

The three friends exchanged glances. Both Godric and Helga nodded at Rowena to explain. She sighed, her fingers going up to her temple in that painful manner she had acquired years before. Helga had tried to stop her from doing it, but it had become a habit, the only sign even showing her family and friends that she was exhausted or distressed.

"We had a falling out," finally Rowena let out, allowing her hand to drop back down. "Three years ago. He left our home in anger and hadn't been in touch ever since then. Until last week, that is, when we received this letter from him." She pulled the crumpled parchment from her waist pouch and handed it to Maeve. "Examine it if you will. It is his handwriting."

Maeve only briefly glanced at it. "I cannot read. I thought Salazar could not either. I see he had been keeping many secrets from me." Then her face dropped and she sighed resignedly. "Come in, please. I will tell him he has guests."

She moved aside, enabling them to enter the house. The brightly lit entryway with its two windows flung open was cheerfully decorated with handmade quilts and stitch work. On a tall pedestal to one side was a squat glass vase with red, pink and yellow flowers and across the hall from it was a nicely painted portrait. It was not a masterpiece, certainly not the equal of many of the portraits gracing Hogwarts' walls, but the figure in it was easily recognized as Salazar. An older, more tired Salazar, but him all the same.

Helga stopped by the portrait, transfixed to it. She could not help but feel that he had aged considerably in the three years they had not seen him, and she dreaded to think what would bring along such a drastic change. Then Rowena called to her and she continued walking hastily, not wishing to be caught staring at _him_, especially not when his wife was there.

From the entry Maeve led them through a spacious kitchen equipped with multiple pots and pans and a big fireplace, everything pristine and polished. Salazar's wife was an orderly one who liked her house to be meticulously clean and tidy. There were flowers there as well, in several vases.

Through an open doorway to one side, they walked into a pleasant sitting area with a lit fire in the elaborate fireplace, casting dancing shadows on the walls. There, Maeve gestured them to take seats, which they did. Rowena sat by Godric, who had almost absent-mindedly grasped her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. Helga almost wished someone was there to do the same with her. Guiltily, she caught herself thinking of Salazar and not of Ilar, which was preposterous, of course. They were both married to other people, and she was _happy_ with Ilar. He gave her all his love and he was there for her after Salazar had told her he did not love her. She had six children with him, each one sweet and intelligent, loving and well-behaved. She could not have asked for a more perfect life.

But she did. She wished she still had Salazar.

It did not take Maeve long to return from the back of the house where she had disappeared to minutes before. She walked more slowly now, a very small girl's clutching her skirts as she approached. "If you would wait a while longer," she said in a soft voice, "I would like to allow him some time to compose himself. He dislikes being seen as he is at the moment."

They all nodded in confirmation and then silence spread in the room. Maeve stood to the side, her hands clenching and unclenching as she watched the three uncertainly. She did know what these strangers wanted and Helga could see that she was upset by Salazar's obvious deceit of the past three years. Bitterly, she thought that this young woman was not the only one the scoundrel had deceived.

Finally, in an attempt to penetrate the oppressive quietness of the room, Godric made an effort to begin some sort of a conversation. "And who is this stunning young lady?" he asked kindly, smiling at the little face that peeked from behind Maeve's skirts. The little girl, with her shiny black plaited and tied with red ribbons, giggled at him and hid her face in the fine brown cloth.

"Her name is Alastriona," Maeve answered, her tired face splitting into a smile that changed her whole demeanor, showing the pretty woman that she was. "Our daughter. She is two winters old and very smart for her age, Salazar says. She's the joy of my life." Her smile faded. "I wished to have a big family… to give him strapping young sons. But…" she sniffed.

"I know what you mean," Helga hurriedly said, for though still slightly jealous, she felt for the woman, knowing what it was like to lose Salazar. "I have six of my own, and they are making my life delightful."

"Six?" Maeve sounded incredulous. "And you still look like you do? It is a marvel!"

Helga did not know if to take it as an insult or a compliment, so she gave the other woman a weak smile instead of answering.

"Why don't you sit down, Mistress Maeve?" Rowena asked politely. "I feel rather embarrassed to be sitting comfortably like this when you are standing."

Maeve, who appeared to have been raised on a different set of standards, looked quite surprised at Rowena's suggestion. She hesitated for a while and then, firmly grasping Alastriona's little hand, she timidly sat at the edge of a chair, her daughter on her lap. For a while longer they all sat in quiet.

Then, her face changing from mild apprehension to desperate need, Maeve turned to them all and said in a pleading voice "Please, is his past so hideous as to make it unbearable for me to know it? I… I beg you! Please tell me - is my husband hiding evil deeds from me that he had never told me a thing?"

Startled by the passionate plea, the three friends exchanged glances. This time, Rowena pointedly looked at Helga, as though telling her that this was her duty. Knowing she was right, Helga sighed and got up, kneeling by the distressed woman, taking those young hands in hers.

"Salazar Slytherin is, was and always will be a good man, Mistress Maeve," she said softly, looking straight into those brown eyes. "He had made mistakes in his past, but then, we all do, and none of his mistakes condemn him. I cannot be sure, but knowing Salazar as well as I do, I believe that he had told you nothing of his past because it had pained him so much. He regretted some of the things he had done, regretted words that were said in the heat of an argument and deeds done under the influence of anger. Do not be afraid of him because of those secrets. He did not hide them to hurt you, but to protect you, your daughter, and himself."

Maeve's eyes brimmed with tears that she shook irritably. "You're _her_, aren't you?" she asked in a sad voice. "You're the one he had left behind. And those children you were speaking of - they're his, aren't they?"

Helga felt a pang of pain at this, but masked it as well as she could. She shook her head. "Whatever had been between Salazar and myself had died long ago. I am married to a good man and the children are all my children through him. You have nothing to fear from me."

Maeve shook her head as well, sadly and slowly. "You may have married and found new love, but he never had. I know it all too well. Come," she abruptly changed her tone of speech and got up after releasing her hands from Helga's grip and picking up Alastriona. "I think we have given him time enough."

She walked briskly away, expecting them to follow her. Helga walked at the back of the group, shaking violently at the words the woman whom Salazar had married just pronounced. She could feel the tears that she had been fighting all day coming up, and she knew that she would not be able to push them down again. They were about to see Salazar again, and he was dying.

**As per usual, thanks very much to all those who reviewed and let me know what they thought of the previous chapter! I am so happy to read each and every one of your reviews! Thank you!**

**Next chapter: Tuesday, as usual. But if you're _really_ craving my work, then you can go and read my Marauders fic, newly rewritten (author alerts haven't been issued because I only replaced the first chapter and not started it again as a new story…) - yes, I know, self-publicity is in poor taste, but _still_… ;)**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter and not run away because these few chapters are a little depressing!**

**Hugs and kisses,**

**-Star of the North**


	29. Lost Soul

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** late Tuesday update again. Sorry… Well! This happens to be Chapter 28! It again shall feature angst, sorrow, and many reasons for the way things turned out. In short, prepare yourselves for a chapter with… _flashbacks_. Don't worry, though, except for one, all of them are original - nothing copied from previous chapters, and the one that is - well, it is lengthened and a little different.

Though this chapter contains sadness in abundance (I think), I hope you will enjoy it!

**Chapter 28 – Lost Soul**

_"As mentioned before, the legend of the Chamber of Secrets is known throughout the population of Hogwarts. People had always known it. People had always suspected its existence. But then, if the Chamber of Secrets is indeed secret, where did the tale come from? How is it that we know it even exists - albeit the fact that many people do not believe that must be mentioned?_

_"Salazar Slytherin had supposedly wrought that place without the knowledge of the other Founders, but the legend had to come from somewhere…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Life rarely goes according to plan. The man lying on his back in the big bed knew that all too well. He had learned it the hard way. Life is a fickle, disloyal companion, going hither and thither without regard to where one might wish it to go. Life and its tricks had brought Salazar Slytherin to where he was now. Friendless, without a past or a future to speak of, dying.

The room in which he was lying was dark, the windows carefully shuttered, every crack sealed. He had told Maeve he could no longer abide the light. But that was a lie. Most of what he had told his wife in their brief time together had been lies. His wife… When he was younger he had known for a fact that his wife would be Helga Hufflepuff. How did it come to this? How did it come to him being alone, dying from an obscure disease away from his family and home, with a woman he barely knew as his wife?

_How did it come to this?_

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_He thought London was his best chance at fading into obscurity. London had a big community of witches and wizards, and it was so far away from Hogwarts that he could take the risk and tell his true name. After all, there were no students from London as far as he knew. They probably had not heard of the school yet, and even if they did, the chances that they knew who headed it were slim. He could take the risk. And besides, even if his name would be recognized, it was none of anyone's business what he was doing all the way away from the Castle._

_Yes. London was his best choice._

_A fresh horse under him, Salazar rode into the muddy streets of London, prepared to start his life anew. A life separated from everything he had done in his past life. Here he would be a simple man of means, with no past to speak of, but a great future ahead. Here he could be anything he wanted - from the simplest of artisans and to the richest of businessmen. Merlin knew he had had enough experience from years of running a mostly self-sufficient school, having to do the arithmetic calculations whenever Rowena had had enough - no. He must not think of her or any of _them_. It would only lead to regrets, and that was the one thing he could not afford. No regrets. Never._

_If he had to start from nothing again, he decided, he must erase everything of what he had known before. If he would chance upon an old comrade, he would pretend not to recognize him or her and claim to not know who they were talking about were they to confront him. Salazar Slytherin as he was would be no more. He would see to that. Enter Salazar Slytherin, a new man. A stranger in London wishing to make his future._

Goodbye, Hogwarts,_ he thought with finality as the magic part of London loomed ahead of him. _We shall never meet again.

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When he had sent the letter to Rowena two weeks before, he had known he was running out of time. He even doubted that the letter would reach her before he died. It was about that time that he had restricted himself to bed and asked Maeve to close the shutters against the light and to keep little Alastriona away. He did not want her to watch her father dying. It would be hard enough for her to grow up with only a mother, as he himself had known all too well. No. Little Alastriona would only have memories of a vibrant, energetic father who had used to toss her in the air and catch her as she giggled excitedly. She would not remember him as this broken shell. He would not let that happen.

The letter had been a final act of a desperate man, he thought bitterly. It had been this that had driven him even more into the stupor of his disease. It had been this that had pushed him nearer to his end. He had lost all hope with each day passing and no reply from Rowena had come. He had lost the will to carry on.

Why had he sent that letter? What in Merlin's name had possessed him to do that? He did not want Rowena to come see him in this state - old, grey and frail. Bedridden. Useless. Not Rowena whose opinion he appreciated more than anything else during the years they had known each other, knowing that if she approved of something then it must be for a reason. But it was too late. The letter had been sent. Not that he really expected her to come, not really, if he thought about it. He remembered only too well the look of utter betrayal on her face as she stood by a sobbing Helga, watching him go. He doubted there was much love left in any of them for him.

He deserved nothing better.

Helga… his darling Helga whom he felt so strongly about. Their relationship had never been Godric and Rowena's passionate, possessive love. Godric and Rowena would fight and make up and then fight again and make up again, and each fight resolved would make their relationship that much stronger. Such was not his and Helga's case.

No. Their relationship had been based first on friendship and only then on physical attraction. He remembered so many nights spent in quiet discussions, snuggled together on the low divan next to Helga's fireplace. So many happy nights now rendered obsolete by her hate of him, by his mistake.

_How did it come to this?_

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_She reminded him of Helga. Sweet Helga with her golden hair and those unique dark blue eyes. But no. The girl had shorter hair than Helga's and her eyes were plain brown. She also did not have Helga's bouncy movement or the ever-present cheerful smile. True, she had a pleasant enough smile, friendly and welcoming, but it did not make his heart leap in his chest with joy or make him smile just so that she would laugh and smile even wider._

_No. That girl was definitely not another Helga. Besides, she was but a girl, yet untried by the hardships of life, and Helga was a middle-aged woman now, slightly padded with years and six childbirths. Six children that should have been his but were not._

_Either way, the girl could not have gone through all the troubles that Helga did. She was but a child, perhaps still an infant in her mother's arms when they had all stood side by side, fighting for their lives and for the freedom of so many people. Would she have done like Helga did? Would she have had the courage? For some reason he simply could not see that sweet child having the same spirit as his Helga, the woman he swore never to think of again, but who had still dominated his thoughts every day._

_"I see that the Irish child has caught your eye, fine sir," someone unexpectedly said to his left._

_"What?" he asked, startled out of his memories._

_"The girl with the flaxen hair? Family moved in from Ireland last winter. Her name's Maeve, if I'm not very much mistaken. A fine catch if there ever was one, mark my words. Looks much younger than she actually is. You have a good eye, fine sir, a very good eye. Though I must warn you that many younger men have…"_

_Salazar let the man go on explaining on how the girl Maeve has been twirling men of all ages around her little finger, refusing to choose any. The man could go on babbling forever for all Salazar cared. His mind stopped processing the words soon after the man started talking. It had treacherously gone back to Helga._

_A fine catch… yes, Helga had been a fine catch indeed. Lowly born, but with great skills and a sense for greatness. Helga… his Helga… Helga, whose lips tasted of honey… Helga, whose embrace was so loving and tender… Helga, the wife of another man._

_He resurfaced again from that flood of memories just in time to hear his ever-so-helpful neighbour say "-and she's getting old. I mean, already twenty and not wedded? A serious laxity on her father's side!"_

_Salazar felt like laughing. Helga had been well on her way to thirty when she had married that big oaf, Ilar, and she had been just as young-looking and attractive as she had been at eighteen, her lovely golden hair in curls strewn with fresh flowers, charmed by Rowena to last the entire day, her dark eyes twinkling with merriment, looking star-struck at the young man who would take her that night and make her his very own, never Salazar's._

_Oh, Helga…_

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"Salazar?" Maeve's soft voice came from the door, interrupting his voyage into the muddled memories of years past, those memories that refused to stay suppressed, no matter what he did. He had not even heard the creak of the door as it opened.

He kept his eyes closed, hoping that she would leave. He was too deep inside his memories and his bitter self-pity. He did not need to have another trembling conversation with her now of all times, when all he wanted was to remember and sink himself in the past. He began hating the sound of his own voice after it started that infernal tremble, almost the first thing to happen to indicate that the disease was catching up with him despite his and Maeve's best efforts.

If she noticed him trying to avoid her, she did not give any sign to it, but opened her mouth to speak again. "Are you feeling well enough for a visit?"

His eyes snapped open and he painfully twisted his neck around in order to face her shadowy figure standing at the dimly lit doorway, hovering, as always, in anxiety and uncertainness. He nodded once, curiosity overcoming his wish to be alone. She left after saying she will give him time to compose himself first, knowing he would want to look his best for a visit.

Who could it be? Could Rowena have come all the same, disregarding everything that had passed between the four of them? Could she have set the disagreements of the past aside and come to bid him a final farewell after all? He was not sure if he wanted it to be her or not. He was so unsightly and she would be sure to baulk away in alarm, if not disgust.

Either way, he attempted to straighten himself and appear less of an invalid, gathering his hair back and sitting up painfully against his plumped pillows, before again sinking into an attempt to answer that single question floating in his mind, now intensified by the mysterious visit. Staring at the wall just beside the closed door leading to the rest of the house he questioned himself again.

_How did it come to this?_

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_"You're so mysterious!" Maeve exclaimed with a giggle, straddling him._

_On the outside, he smiled indulgingly. Inside, he cringed. She was so young… he could have been her father - if not grandfather. Yet for some peculiar reason, Maeve seemed to approve of him - nay, practically throw herself at him every time he entered her family's inn._

_"I'm not all that mysterious, love," he said, the endearment leaving his lips almost effortlessly. "Just not fond of revealing my past."_

_"Are you a criminal of some sort?" she asked in a low, breathy voice, leaning closer to him. "You're much too handsome to be completely innocent." She laughed at that, reducing the distance between them even further._

_Resisting the urge to pull back, he shook his head. "Not a criminal, dear girl. My past is not as interesting as that. I just lost too much to wish to speak of it further. I simply wish to let it go and start anew." This was not entirely a lie, and he was very proud of how convincing he sounded even to his own ears, not to mention it convinced Maeve, who immediately adopted a comforting expression, and took his face in her hands._

_"Then let me help you forget, my mysterious stranger," she whispered, her soft hands caressing his weathered cheeks. Then, not letting Salazar a chance to protest, put her lips to his and kissed him._

_Maeve turned out to be a good distraction. Just what he needed, really. She was passionate and tended to take the physical trail rather than just speaking with him. Their conversations tended to be short, quickly taking a sharp turn into kissing and touching. She may have been young, but she knew her business, he had to admit._

_Her parents did not seem to mind that she was developing such a close relationship with a complete stranger, much older than herself. In fact, when approached by Salazar, they said that Maeve taking interest in him relieved them immensely. Her father told him that she had never taken any serious interest in any of the young men vying for her hand in marriage, and that her actions now told him that she was ready to settle down._

_It did not take long. After a short engagement period which was more for show than for anything else, Salazar found himself standing side by side with Maeve, agreeing to all conditions of a marital contract._

_Before long, he was a married man, about to become a father._

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"…bothered by the light, so it'll be dark inside." Maeve's voice once more shook him out of his memories. This time, though, he was more startled and frightened than annoyed.

_No!_ If it was Rowena, coming for the last time, then let her see what had become of him. Let her see the mighty Salazar Slytherin in all his mortal glory.

"L-light th-e r-roo-mm, Ma-a-eve," he let out in a croak, hating himself for sounding so pitiful and yet receiving a small amount of twisted pleasure from proving to Rowena that even he could make mistakes.

Someone let out a startled oath and a muttered question. Salazar started at the sound. It was not a woman's voice. Who was it that came for a visit? He had no male relatives - excepting Bran, that is, and no one aside of Rowena would know where to find him. In an instant he regretted telling Maeve to light the room.

"He's been that way for the past week. He doesn't talk much these days, I'm afraid," Maeve told whoever it was, her voice sorrowful. She then entered, and in the dim doorway he could see a bulk that could not have been one person. His curiosity was peaking, and suddenly he could not wait to see who it was. Beside him Maeve was rattling with the shutters.

Then the room was flooded with sudden early afternoon light and Salazar had to blink hard against its blinding quality, having shunted all sunlight for two weeks.

"They're coming in, Salazar, shall I stay?" Maeve asked in that same subdued voice she used ever since his illness had taken that deadly turn.

_They?_ Then his guess was correct. "N-no. Le-leave ussss."

He had to squint in order to see who came through the half-opened door, and if he was honest with himself, it was not entirely because of the brightness of the sun. Now his eyesight was dimming as well. His time was short.

Three figures entered the room. Two feminine and one male. Salazar's breath hitched in his throat. It _could not_ be. How could it be? They hated him. He had ruined everything just because of a stupid argument. But - there they were. Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and… Godric. Of all people, Godric Gryffindor had come to his deathbed to say farewell.

He felt tears stain his hollowed, wasted cheeks and cursed himself for that sentimental lapse. Never in his life had he responded in actual tears to the meeting of long absent friends.

_How did it come to this?_

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_"Helga!" he cried desperately. "Helga, wait!"_

_The woman, though small and dainty, could walk unbelievingly fast when she wanted to. Right now she was a whole corridor away and still gathering speed. He could barely see her now._

_Abandoning all semblance of respectability, he broke into a run. A moment later he caught up with her, taking hold of her arm, stopping her from going away._

_"Helga, _please_," he managed to breathe out. Age was starting to draw an effect on him. A few years before he could have run for a long time without getting short of breath, and now... "Helga, could you stop for just a moment?"_

_Her face turned the other way, she did stop. Though her hair was down, hiding most of her face, he could see that wet trail that betrayed her. She was far more upset than he had imagined her to be. He knew what he had said was wrong, or possibly should have been phrased differently, but it was too late to change that. It had been said. Over and done with. What he _could_ do, however, was to try and make it up to her._

_"Helga, can we… go for a walk, calm down a little and _then_ have that talk that we must have? Those walks were always good to us, weren't they? Let us go, walk around the lake, perhaps, or simply tour the grounds. What do you say?"_

_She shrugged noncommittally, but when he took her arm in his and started leading the way out, she did not resist._

_They took their time. Their walk was long and leisurely, none of them saying anything. They both took comfort in the encompassing silent, and drew courage from it. Though he did not know what Helga was thinking, Salazar used that time to prepare himself to any accusations she may use. He would be calm; he would tell her how much he loved her. He would make her see that what he had said was not an insult and that she should take it in stride. She would forgive him, he knew. Helga always forgave everyone._

_Finally they arrived back at the Castle, and, confident that no one would be in the corridors at that time, Salazar decided this was as good a time as any to start that imminent conversation._

_"Helga," he began. "I know you were hurt by what I said back in the chamber."_

_"You do, do you?" she spat, resembling in that tone to Rowena more than to herself._

_"Yes, I do. I didn't realize it at first, but you know how slow I am in those matters." He tried to smile, to lighten the heavy atmosphere that seemed to overpower them both. It did not work. Her eyes, no longer obscured by her hair, were flat and cold, waiting for him to continue. "I shouldn't have said it. But in the heat of the moment-"_

_"No, Salazar," she said coldly. "There should not have been 'in the heat of the moment'. 'In the heat of the moment' refers to something that you believe in and keep hidden while composed. I cannot _believe_ you. I thought I knew you better than this, but apparently I didn't. What else are you keeping hidden, Salazar? What other twisted ideas and ideals?"_

_"I'm not hiding anything," he denied, ignoring the pang of hurt he felt at those words. "I am an open book to you. Always have been."_

_She shook her head, this time sadness taking over her expression. "I don't know, Salazar. Lately it's like I've never known you. It's as though you've become a different man. Do you even love me anymore?"_

_"Of course I do!" he cried out, outrage evident in his voice. How could she doubt the depth of his feelings? Had he not made it clear how much he cared for her, time and time again? He came here in order to explain to her just how much he loved her, and there she was, doubting the truth of his heart?_

_"Then say it."_

_"What?"_

_"Say it, Salazar! Tell me you love me!"_

_She waited._

_And waited._

_He could not say it. He opened his mouth time and again, but nothing came out. It was as though something was blocking his voice, stopping it from coming out and professing his love to her. No matter how he fought this invisible barrier, it would not let him say it. His face twisted this way and that, but still nothing came out. As he struggled, he could see the sadness and the anger that battled in her eyes for dominance. Finally he could not look at her anymore. He closed his mouth, and shifted the direction of his gaze to the cold floor under their feet._

_"I knew it," she then whispered, the pain she felt, shared by Salazar, clearly heard in her voice. "I could see that your heart was not in it anymore. I thought it was just my imagination, but I've been fooling myself. You don't love me. Not anymore. It's so clear to me now. How could I have been so blind? Have you ever loved me at all? I seriously doubt that now."_

_"Helga! That's not true! I… I… I…"_

_"You can't even _say_ that! You can't even say those words, cannot defend yourself, so you mean you never loved me," she said flatly, her eyes smoldering in anger. "You allowed me to delude myself for so long just because you_ cared _for me and didn't want to hurt my feelings. Great judgment, Salazar. Absolutely_ wonderful."

_"Helga, please, it wasn't like that!" he protested, his face pulling into a pained expression. Why could she not see how hard it was for him? Why could she not see the struggle he was going through within? She did to let him speak. She did not let him explain. His lovely, wonderful, understanding Helga, for the first time in her life, _refused to listen.

_"Nine years, Salazar!" she cried, her hands moving uncontrollably as she attempted to regain her composure. "You allowed me to delude myself for_ nine years_. That's longer than Rowena and Godric had been together, and they are married and have two children! Great Merlin, Salazar! I honestly thought you were going to ask me to marry you! I've waited this long for you - I would have waited more! But this goes beyond limits. If you don't love me, then there is no point in me waiting anymore, now is there? You will_ never _ask me to become your wife."_

_Marry. She wanted to marry him. That was what he was afraid of - that was exactly it. She had hit the sorest spot in his heart. But how could he explain it to her? That he was afraid. That he was terrified of committing himself to her. That _this _was the reason behind his distancing himself from her for all this time. He could never explain that to her. There was only one thing he could do, he decided. There was only one thing that could buy him more time._

_"Helga… I really do care about you," he sighed, "but I don't love you the way you deserve. You are such a sweet, loving person, and you give me more love than I can ever give you back."_

_There. He had said it. He had told her the greatest lie he could ever have conceived. He had denied his strong feelings to her and let her think that he did not love her as he did. He felt his heart wrenching within his chest, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Was it not?_

_"Don't give me that nonsense, Salazar Slytherin!" she then screamed, finally losing whatever control she still held over her emotions. Her face was red and her eyes flashed dangerously as she advanced on him. "You should have said so a long time ago instead of allowing me to weave fantasies of our future life together! Why, Salazar? Why did you do this to me? You say you care, but really, you don't!"_

_He could hear the unsaid words. He could hear her mentally adding 'you care only for yourself!' And it was true. Only a selfish man such as himself would tell the love of his life that he did not love her. He watched her, knowing that he was about to lose her. He had to do_ something_. He had to still retain a chance that she would return to him when she realizes how deeply he really loved her. And she _will_ realize it, he assured himself. She was a smart woman._

_"Helga - please!" he finally said with exactly the right amount of meekness in his voice, or so he thought. "I gave this a long deliberation before I said it. Please… I just… I just think it would be better off if we remain friends and nothing more. It would be for the best."_

_"Very well," she said coldly, and he did not like the look in her face as she said it. "We shall remain friends. Thank you, Salazar, for breaking my heart now, before I would have approached you about marriage."_

_And then he was left there, alone, suddenly feeling dread of what her cold, detached tone may mean. Did he do the right thing after all?_

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She did not return. She never did. Salazar could now, on his deathbed, pinpoint that very instant when he had let her go, lost her beyond retrieval. Godric and Rowena have been right. He had been such a fool.

The first to rush to his bedside was Helga. It had surprised him, to be truthful, but it made him smile. It was as though that conversation had never happened. As though they had never been apart.

"Salazar!" she cried, her sweet voice unchanged even after three years of separation. She was on her knees by his bed, and her hands were clasping his frail, wasted ones, tears openly falling down her face. She had always been the most emotional of the three of them.

"How are you feeling?" a gruff voice asked, and he looked up to see Godric standing by Helga, a guarded look in his eyes, not quite meeting Salazar's gaze. His oldest of friends had not changed much. Age did not mark him, just made him even more confident and proud than ever. And yet… and yet he _had_ come to see him. He had matured.

"Not ve-very well," he admitted, his voice shaking only a little.

There was a long pause after that. No one knew what to say. Though she had said nothing, Salazar could see Rowena's form standing by the door, keeping her distance. He realized that she was giving them all the chance to make up before the end. He was truly touched by that gesture, and, in a flash of determination, decided not to let that chance go to waste.

"I… am sssso glad that… you have decided to come here," he said, his voice becoming steadier and stronger with each word. "I d-didn't know ifff even Rowena would come, but you have surprised me greatly. I missed you."

"Salazar…" Helga muttered, tightening her hold on his hands, her voice shaking. "You can't go, Salazar."

"It is not my choice to make, my lovely Helga," he said, for the first time in a week not stuttering or drawing out words. "Death comes to us all. I have… learned to live with that knowledge. I know the time I have left is short, and so I am glad I've been given the chance to make things right."

"We will take you back to Hogwarts, Salazar," Godric said hurriedly. "We will take you back. All you need is a change of scenery. You need to come back home to your family and to all those who love you and call you friend. You would be fine again."

"Godric," Salazar laughed, but then had to stop when laughter turned into a hacking cough. "God-dric," he repeated, short for breath. "You can't cheat death of what is due to it. It is my time."

"No," Helga said, shaking her head stubbornly. "Godric is right. Once you will be home again you will feel much better. We will bring you, and Maeve, and little Alastriona with us, and you will have quarters in the Castle, or a house in the village, and you will live to see your daughter married and you will bounce grandchildren on your knees and…" her voice choked with tears as he shook his head gently.

He looked over the heads of Godric and Helga, meeting Rowena's steady gaze. He could see unshed tears glistening in her eyes, and knew that she would not lose control. She always was the strong one, and even after he would die she would remain strong for Godric and Helga. She knew the truth of his words, even if she said nothing about it.

"You're not going to live, are you?" Helga finally said with a defeated tone to her voice.

"No, love," he whispered. "This is the end for me. Godric? Could you… go and bring me a cup of water?"

Nodding, Godric turned his back on the bed and left the room. After he did, Rowena smiled a small, sad smile, and without a word, followed her husband. Salazar knew she would understand. She would keep Godric away, allowing him a few moments alone with Helga.

Once alone, he stared up at the ceiling. Not looking at the teary woman he knew was by his side, he asked "Do you remember that conversation we had? Oh, about fourteen, fifteen years ago?"

"We had a lot of conversations in our time, Salazar," she said softly.

"Yes, we did, didn't we? But this specific conversation I am talking about was very influential - on us. Do you recall this conversation I am speaking of?" Only then did he turn his head to face her.

She looked very distraught. "That many years ago, you say?" she asked gently. "Yes. I remember it only too well, Salazar. It was that conversation that made me realize that we had no future together. You broke my heart then, Salazar. Did you know that?"

He reached out with his hand to cup her cheek, still smooth and full. "I did. I could see it in your eyes when I said that I could never love you enough. If it's any consolation, I've regretted it many times in the years that had passed."

"It does nothing to console me," she said, pulling away from him. "You ruined everything, Salazar. _Everything_."

They were both quiet for a while, as he pondered what to say, if it was right to say it, and what would be her response to what was on his mind.

"I lied."

"What?" she looked up in confusion, incomprehension in her eyes.

"That day?" he said in a heavy voice. "I lied, Helga. I couldn't say it to you then, not because it was a lie, but because I was afraid. I was afraid to enter something that would be so comprehensive, so influential on my entire life… I was afraid of marriage, Helga, and that was why I couldn't say it. It was a lie. Everything I said. From the very start. I loved you very much, Helga. Still do. I will love you with all my heart even in the little time I have left, even knowing that you don't return the feeling anymore."

"Salazar, I-"

She never got to finish what she was about to say. It seemed that Godric was tired of waiting and that Rowena could no longer keep him away. He entered, with his irate wife in tow, holding a cup filled with water.

"Thank you, old friend," Salazar said, trying to hide his annoyance. Whatever Helga was about to say, he realized it would be very important, but now she would never say it. Resigning himself to that thought, he motioned to Rowena to come forward. There were no more tears in her eyes. Once again she had tight control over her emotions. She even had a small smile on her lips, seeing the slightly confused expression on Helga's face, possibly deducing what had transpired between the two while she was gone.

"Thank you," he simply said, and the soft smile she gave him told him that it was all she needed to hear. The others did not seem to understand this, but she did, and that was all that mattered.

Still smiling, as though she was not by the deathbed of one of her oldest friends, she kneeled beside Helga and took one of his hands in hers. "You know I would have done everything for you, dear friend. I will miss you." Then she rose again, kissed his cheek gently and stood by her husband. He could barely make out their features now.

Then Godric's face came closer, becoming clearer, then less clear again. And as Godric's hand replaced Rowena, holding his, with a sudden panic, Salazar realized that he could not hold out for much longer. Those past moments with Helga and before had required more energy and strength than he was willing to admit. He had started that day knowing that it would be the last one he would spend in this life, but the arrival of his old friends had managed to erase that knowledge from his mind. Now it was returning, and he could already feel himself slipping away.

With growing terror he remembered the most important thing of all, the reason for which he had really asked Rowena to come and see him. The secret had to be told, the thing had to be contained. How could he have created such a monster? How could he had done such a thing? They had to know. They _had_ to _know_.

He had to warn them. They could not let that monster get loose. Something would have to be done to rectify his mistake. Something _had_ to be done, or so many innocent lives would be lost. He could not allow that. He simply could not.

Gathering his last strengths before he would slip away, he tightened his grip on Godric's hand and pulled him so near that his ear was almost against Salazar's mouth.

"God..ric… Made a mistake… Chamber… bellow Castle… danger… made mistake… monster… danger to… Mug… mistake… bas… please forgive… mons… big… ba…" desperately he tried to convey whole words, but his throat failed him, and so did his eyes. Darkness flooded his death chamber.

The last thing Salazar Slytherin had ever seen was the compassionate, loving faces of his three, lifelong friends.

And the very last thing he ever heard with mortal ears, though he may have imagined it, was Helga's voice saying "I love you…"

Death took him.

**This is it for this week! Just two more chapters plus the Epilogue to go! Well, as usual, tell me what you think! I love hearing your opinions of this story!**

**See you next Tuesday!**

**Hugs and kisses to all!**

**-Star of the North**


	30. A Father's Difficulties

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Salazar is gone. Woe on us… ((sniffs)) It was such a difficult chapter to write - emotionally-wise - but I'm glad I went on with the plan despite that.

Now, the last couple of chapters deserve a special introduction. After the tear-soaked few chapters we had gone through, we are now taking a sharp turn from that line, into the tranquil waters of an ending. Before any of you scold me and say that the content of this chapter has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the story, this is my **explanation** to you:

I needed to end this somehow. The best way to end it, from my point of view, is with a sort of a beginning. For, after all, every ending is the beginning of something new. So even though I have no intention of writing a sequel (because a) there's not enough stuff to write about, b) it would be rather redundant and c) I'm already working on the _prequel_ that means so much more to me and I have little time as it is), I am leaving this story with an open ending of sorts for your imagination.

Short chapter, but the next one is much longer and will, sadly, conclude the story ('cept for the Eiplogue, naturally!). It was very fun to write an oblivious Godric and a somewhat slytherin-ish Ryan, I'll have you know;)

And so, I hope you will enjoy these last two chapters!

**Chapter 29 – A Father's Difficulties**

_"After the destruction of the old form of government with the death of Ambrosius, the Founders did not involve themselves with the matters of rule anymore. They wished no connection to the rebuilding of the ruling establishment, having had enough of it. They wanted nothing more than to concentrate their efforts on the continuity of their school, choosing to separate themselves from those few people who had decided it was their job to renew the Council._

_"While the Founders themselves did not engage in those matters anymore, those who had, in time, recreated the form of government in the British magic community, all came from Hogwarts. They were all educated there and had formed their opinions there. Therefore, it is no doubt that the body, which in years to come would transform into the modern Ministry of Magic, was in good hands…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

Helga was silent throughout the journey back to the farm where they burrowed the horses from, a considerable distance away. Tears fell down her cheeks unchecked, but she made no noise. Her blond hair was limp and her skin pale and sallow, much as Salazar's face had been in those last moments. She rode close by Godric, not caring that he could see her at such a state.

Rowena rode ahead, and there was no way he could tell what she was thinking without looking deep into her eyes, or at least seeing her face. Her back was straight, her hair in its orderly tight bun, and her posture rigid. He knew all too well that until they would be alone in their quarters at Hogwarts she would show no other emotion.

As for himself, he was puzzled. He wanted to cry. Wanted to cry more than anything else. No matter how hurt he had been from that fight with Salazar, this was still his best of friends who had just died, and there he was - dry-eyed as a stone. Was his heart this cold? Why could he not cry? Why could he not shed one tear for the sake of a man that had meant so much to him throughout his life?

They did not stay for the burial. Maeve's expression when she had told them it would take place in a couple of days had told them they were not wanted there. Though she had been hospitable enough upon their arrival at her home, it became obvious that she wished nothing more to do with them. Godric supposed it was a combination of having them steal Salazar's last moments from her, and the fact that the woman whom Salazar had loved all through their years together, namely Helga, had been the one to hold his hand before he died, not her.

Knowing they would most likely be greeted with hostility by Maeve's relatives, Rowena had sadly said that they might as well leave and not participate. Her voice never wavered as she said it. It never did. Godric knew that she needed to cry, but how could he tell her that, when he himself could not shed a tear?

As they returned to the home of Sir Cedric, they did not dally. They gave their profound thanks to the man and to his family, politely refused their offer to stay for the night and then immediately Apparated back to Hogwarts.

It was late by the time they reached the Castle, and a steady drizzle had started, gradually soaking them to the bone as they trudged up the stairs and to the front doors. Strangely enough, none of them seemed to mind. None of them even attempted to use magic to shelter them from the rain. They did not care. Godric, his face wet with rain, felt that this was in some way a substitute to his own tears that refused to come. The world wept for Salazar Slytherin.

The Castle's corridors were empty when they entered it. Empty and echoing. No students were outside at this hour, even the most mischievous of them all opting to remain in the warmth of their commons during such a night. The Castle, their home for so many years, never seemed so bleak to Godric. Even the building itself mourned for its lost builder.

A whole crowd of children was in their quarters when he and Rowena entered the main chamber. Apparently Ryan and Ceri had taken their cousins under their wing for the night, sparing Ilar the trouble.

"Aunt Rowena!" Rhian called, being the first to see them enter. "Is Mother-"

"Your mother is back as well, yes. I suggest you go and greet her before she panic and start wondering what had happened to you. You don't want that to happen, now do you?" Godric was surprised that her voice did not even shake as she spoke. He was sure that his own voice would have come out shaky and distressed if he was the one to speak.

Helga's brood all squealed in excitement, bolting out of the room, stumbling over each other, only pausing to kiss their aunt and uncle briefly before running to see their mother. Ceri and Ryan, much statelier than their cousins, got up and stopped before their parents.

"Uncle Salazar?" Ryan asked softly, meeting Godric's eyes gravely.

"He… he died," Godric croaked, the tears that refused to fall choking his voice.

"But did you make peace between you before then?"

He was extremely surprised by his son's question. He had expected him to ask if they were all right. He expected him to offer his condolences or even to cry. He did not expect him to ask _that_. He did not even know that Ryan was aware of the entire situation.

"Y-yes. W-we d-did," the tears were more evident in his voice now than ever. He felt more than saw Rowena smiling slightly and then her hand took hold of his and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Why don't you go and rest, Godric?" she said gently. "We all had a very long day."

Doing as he was told, he kissed his children goodnight and left for the bedchamber to change out of his wet clothes and go to sleep. Long after he had extinguished the dim lights he could still hear Rowena and the children speaking in soft voices. He supposed that she was telling them of their beloved uncle's last moments, sharing her experience there with them. He felt the first tears coming, but did nothing to stop them.

Godric Gryffindor wept.

Finally he sank into an uneasy slumber, of which he woke abruptly when he heard the door to the bedchamber open and then close.

He did not know what time it was, only that it was rather late. He could hear Rowena moving in the dark, doing whatever it was she always did before going to bed. Then he felt her slip into bed and burrow into him, seeking to be as close to him as possible.

He knew it would happen long before he heard her first sob, but soon enough he could hear her. Soft, barely audible weeping, accompanied by cold tears that soaked into his nightshirt, penetrated the quiet of the night. Moving so that he could hold her tightly in his arms, he kept them in that position until her grief ran its course and she could finally fall asleep.

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After Salazar's death, things slowly settled back into their normal routine. There were classes to teach, a school to run, and a whole lot of children just wanting to get into trouble every other day to keep an eye on. Soon enough, to his great surprise and feeling of guilt, Godric noted that the memory of Salazar was pushed to the back of his mind, and that he only rarely thought about his lost friend.

There was nothing to do about that, however. Salazar was dead, never to return, but life went on without him, as it always did. Godric could not allow himself to shirk his duties again, as he did after Salazar had left Hogwarts three years or so before. He would not do that to Rowena again. And so he allowed Salazar to become only a vague memory that would come out at night before sleep when all that troubles a man creep up, returning to his cheerful old self during the day.

A month after they had returned from London, he agreed to go with Ilar to the village for the evening, to pay a visit to Calanthe and her tavern. It was the usual thing - meeting with all of Sir Rhys' sons and other friends from the village, talking, drinking and laughing until Calanthe firmly sent all of them home, most of them walking unsteadily, some falling asleep on her floor and dragged home by sympathetic and more sober friends.

Nothing had changed about those nights. This time, too, he had to half-carry his younger friend back to the Castle, Ilar loudly singing bawdy songs, and he attempting to keep him quiet. It always amused him to no end, that the normally reserved and quiet Ilar would become this vulgar after a few tankards of ale. He shook his head in amusement and dragged his friend all the way to the quarters he shared with Helga. Knocking politely on the door, it was almost immediately opened by a worried Helga.

Her worry soon dissipated, making place for the wry expression she displayed every time her husband came home from the tavern after an outing with Godric.

"Couldn't get him to drink less this time either, I presume?" she asked dryly, taking hold of the foolishly grinning Ilar.

"Couldn't and wouldn't, my dearest Helga," he said with a mock bow. "The man deserves a little bit of drunk-time. He will learn one day - I hope. I'm getting too old to carry him home every time."

She snorted at that and pulled her husband into their main chamber. "Goodnight, Godric," she said with a smile. "Thanks for bringing him home again."

"Always here to serve, old friend. Goodnight."

Whistling softly to himself, he made his way to his quarters, content of the night he had spent in pleasant company, and ready to go to bed. Rowena must be fast asleep by now, he thought to himself, for he had told her he planned on coming back late. It would be nice to wrap his arms around her as she slept soundly. Smiling, he almost missed the streak of colour in front of him.

The colour he had caught glimpse of was deep auburn, disappearing around the corner, and, since he knew Rowena would never run if there was chance anyone would see her, wondered what Ceri was up to at this time of night. He had lately noticed that she always had a rosy blush in her cheeks, and that she was often flushed and tousled when she returned to their quarters in the evening. When he had commented about it to Rowena, suggesting that their little girl may be ill, his wife almost choked on her tea, and then hurriedly assured him that there was nothing wrong with Ceri. It sounded a bit crooked to him, but he let it go. If Rowena was not worried, then he should not be either.

Then he heard the sound of laughter that he recognized without a doubt as Ceri, and then a mirthful shriek and the sound of running feet. Seconds later, he saw his daughter bolting from around the corner, closely followed not by Ryan as he had expected, but by none other than Aiden.

Before he had had the chance to make his presence known to the laughing pair, Ceri ran straight into him and would have fallen had he not caught her.

Looking up, her eyes as wide as two full moons, Ceri seemed to gulp, but then her usual smile reappeared, and she hugged him tightly, saying "Hello, Father. I trust you had a good time in the village?"

"That I did," he said at ease. "But the two of you should have long ago been in bed. It's past midnight, and I would not want to punish either of you for trespassing school rules."

The two looked thoroughly ashamed of themselves, and Aiden, his face pale for some reason said "I do apologize, Headmaster. We hadn't notice the time. Goodnight, Ceri. Goodnight, Headmaster." And with that, he hastily withdrew.

"Let us go, too, Ceri. Your mother could be out of her mind with worry. What were you thinking, staying out so late and doing whatever it was you were doing?" he stopped at that and gave his daughter a questioning glance. "What _were_ you doing?"

"Um…" she mumbled. "Playing the chasing game. We're childish like that some times."

"Don't I know it," he laughed. "Come now, I'm sure your mother thinks you're safely in bed by now. If she's still awake then I will distract her and let you slip into bed, but mark it that I want this to be the last time."

She nodded, with a somewhat guilty expression on her face.

The two of them walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way to the family's quarters. He never grew tired of spending time with his children - even if it was without speaking. Their presence was enough. Every time he remembered how close he had been to losing them all those years ago, he appreciated the time he had spent with them even more.

Finally they reached the quarters, and Ceri slipped quickly into the room she shared with Ryan as Godric did as he had promised, and distracted Rowena, who was wide-awake and waiting for him to return despite having been told not to wait. He wondered how it was that their daughter managed to escape her mother's hawk-like watch, for by his wife's calm he surmised that she had not discovered Ceri was missing as yet.

Later, long after the couple had gone to bed, Godric remained awake, staring at the dark ceiling above him, listening to Rowena's quiet breaths as she slept. He was such a lucky man. He had two wonderful children who were - for the most part - obedient and loving. They were well-educated and were bound to have a great future in front of them - Ryan in particular with his inclination to protect everyone he held dear. Perhaps one day he would rise to be the true grandson of Gawain Gryffindor and Ryan Ravenclaw, giants of their time. And as for Ceri… she was bound to be as great a lady as her mother and grandmothers before her. He was not worried.

He also had Rowena, who was an outstanding woman, and even though they had had their disagreements - quite often, at that - he knew she would always be there for him, through thick and thin, through ice and fire. His life could not have been more perfect. With that comforting thought, he finally fell asleep.

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After that night, he had chance to find Ceri and Aiden together on more than one occasion, often with their head bowed together, whispering and laughing. The boy was a little too close for comfort to his daughter, spending a little too much time with her. Godric had always known that due to certain things, not least of them the fact that she had grown up almost bodily attached to her brother, Ceri had always preferred the company of friends of the male persuasion over any other. Her only female friend relatively close to her age was Helga's eldest, Rhian, and recently he had noticed that the two spent much less time together, as Ceri apparently opted for her age group's friends. And yet, she seemed particularly attached to the potter's boy, and he found it somewhat disconcerting.

Still, when he had asked Rowena for her opinion, she vaguely dissipated his suspicions, saying that friends would be friends and to let them be. So he did. After all, Ceri was his little girl, and he was very proud of her. She would never do anything bad or something that would embarrass her parents or earn their disapproval.

This belief, as sweet and trusting as it was, in the end brought him the worst shock of his life.

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Even if Godric was somewhat worried about Ceri's close relationship with Aiden, soon he had worse things to deal with.

It was a few weeks later that Ryan entered Godric's study without warning, practically floating, a wide grin plastered on his face. He was holding a roll of parchment in his hand, and was humming happily.

"In a good mood, are we?" Godric asked his son fondly.

"That we are, Father," Ryan said, his grin broadening even further. "I have great news, and I think you'll like them! I got this letter this morning, and I was rather surprised, because no one ever sends me letters - all the people I know live in the Castle or at the village at worst - so I was very curious to see who it was from. Can you guess who sent it to me?"

"Your future wife?" Godric asked, chuckling.

"Father!" Ryan seemed outraged. "Be serious, please! First of all, I would not even consider taking a wife before I get to know the girl properly, and second, that is _not_ the person who had sent it to me. Can't you guess?"

Sighing and putting down his quill, Godric shook his head. "No, my dear boy. I cannot. Surprise me."

"Lord Billius, Father!" Ryan called excitedly, now bouncing in place. "Lord Billius himself had sent me a letter. He wants my help for something, I think. It's a great honour, isn't it?"

"What are you saying, Ryan?" Godric asked warily.

The youth was smiling so broadly now that his smile almost split his face in half. He dropped very ungracefully on the chair in front of his father and said in excitement "What I'm saying is that Billius wants to talk to _me_, Father! Lord _Billius_ asked to arrange a meeting. He wants me to come to Stonehenge to meet him! I can only imagine what he wants me to do there, but it's great, isn't it?"

Godric felt only dread at this declaration. What could Lord Billius, one of the last remnants of the Council and one of the two men who had held the ruling body together against all objections ever since Ambrosius' death, want with _his_ son? There were several options that immediately jumped into his mind, and none of them was very favourable. Still, he could not bear watching the delighted expression on Ryan's face evaporate, and so he forced out his words.

"Yes, it is wonderful. Are you going to go?"

"Of course I am!" Ryan's delight intensified. "I can Apparate, and so it shouldn't take long, should it? I'll be gone just the few days - less even. Will you tell Mother?"

At this, a warning signal flared in Godric's mind. If Ryan did not tell his mother about the letter he had received, then he was quite possibly afraid of her reaction. He scrutinized Ryan's hopeful face and crossed his arms in front of him. "Why don't _you_ tell your mother?" he asked suspiciously.

Ryan's face fell and he stared at the desk separating the two of them as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "Because she wouldn't let me go," he said in a small voice.

"And why wouldn't she let you go?" Godric pleasantly asked, knowing how uncomfortable the boy was, and somehow enjoying that discomfort. Ryan was too independent for his liking.

"Because she wouldn't agree with it," the boy said in an even smaller voice. "She would say that I shouldn't involve myself with the government because they are all corrupt and evil at the base, even though Gaius and Billius had helped us during the war against Ambrosius."

"And do you understand the truth behind what she would say?"

In defeat, Ryan's shoulders slumped and he nodded. "I know they are not the most honest people alive, and I know that they are backstabbing bastards when it suits them, but…" Here Ryan's eyes flared with determination. "But that's why I want to be involved, Father. I know I can do better than them. I can rebuild the Council in a different way - in a way that won't allow those holding reign to have infinite power over everyone else. I can make a change, Father - I know I can. Billius and Gaius are relics of an old world, an old system of government. While they are at the top there is no chance to make that change that we so sorely need, but if I can be there… I know I'm very young, but I can influence them - I can outwit them. You know that. And-"

Here Godric smiled and unfolded his arms. He raised a hand in order to stop Ryan's speech. "My dear child," he said, still smiling. "It is the job of a parent to be overprotective of their children. And so I cannot help but worry that you might not be doing the right thing. However, your grandfather, my father, was younger than yourself when he had taken my grandfather's seat at the Council, and look how far he had gotten. I don't want to see you go, Ryan, but I am not about to stop you. If it is a mistake, then it is your mistake to make - I can't coddle you forever, and nor can your mother. I will tell her, boy. Just make sure to come back in one piece so she can dismantle you on her own when you are back."

The grin back on his face, Ryan profusely thanked his father, and then disappeared back into the main chamber. By nightfall he was gone, and Rowena was on the verge of Apparating to Stonehenge and dragging him back by the ears. Godric found that very amusing and was waiting for her reaction when their son would return.

He completely understood her worry. She did not have a very good experience with the Council. None of them did. But he also knew that Ryan was a man now, and that he could no longer hide behind his mother's skirts, no matter how much Rowena wished it otherwise. Ryan could not and would not stay a child for ever. And so, when he saw Rowena putting on her cloak and preparing to leave after her son, he took hold of her arm and made her sit down.

It was a long night, and included a very loud argument between the two. Godric did not remember having such a heated fight with her for a very long time. She was angry at him and at Ryan, but most of all she was worried, and that made her crankier than ever. She paced for a while and then sat down, tapping her foot impatiently as she argued her case, then got up and paced again, all the while talking and shouting and saying horrible things that little children should never hear. It had been a very long time since she had let loose that side of her vocabulary.

It was only a couple or so hours after midnight that they had finished their fight, and even that was only because a sleepy Ceri opened the door to her room and curtly asked the two to "kiss and make up and let me go back to my bloody sleep, because there's school tomorrow."

That had shut them both up, and so they had retired to bed. Even if he did not know how upset Rowena really was, the fact that she kept to her side of the bed that night would have made it obvious. It was not a very comfortable night.

It took Ryan three days to return, and by the time he did, Rowena's anger had simmered down enough for her to keep a tight lid on it. Godric, knowing her ominous silences only too well, did not envy his son. Rowena was _furious_.

He did not blame her, of course, for he himself was not very happy with the boy. Having time to think it over, he wondered what had possessed Ryan to become so involved with the matters of government. They had always made sure that they had nothing to do with it, and they were sure their children would do the same. How did things go so wrong? He was so worried that Ryan would do something foolish.

"It is only one of the troubles and difficulties of us, fathers," Sir Rhys told him on the night of Ryan's return, as the two sat in the older man's house over a cup of ale. "We must watch helpless as our children grow up and fly away from the nest. Ryan is no longer a child, Godric, and I can see it in your eyes that you are fully aware of that. It is time to let go - consciously as well as unconsciously."

"How do I do that?" Godric asked tiredly, swirling the remains of the ale at the bottom of his cup.

"It takes time, but you will manage it, sooner or later. It's not over yet, Godric. You still have Ceri, after all, and she is a good girl - and still _is_ a child."

"You're right. I still have Ceri. She's not going anywhere for the time being," he agreed, smiling slightly. "She will always be my little girl, and no one is taking her from me just yet."

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When Godric returned from the village that evening, he found Rowena scolding Ryan. By the defeated expression on his son's face, he guessed she had been at it for quite a while. Seeing that he entered the room, she planted her hands on her hips and said "-And this is the last time you are doing such a thing without giving me fair warning first!"

"Yes, Mother," Ryan said in a monotone, but Godric thought he caught a sigh of relief somewhere in there. "Now may I tell you about what I did in Stonehenge?"

Surprisingly enough, she smiled and sat down. Then, straightening her skirts, said "You most certainly may."

Godric, slightly stunned by her reaction, settled next to her and listened to what Ryan had to say.

As it turned out, their mischievous son had gone there in order to achieve his own ends. "I only wanted to see what they were doing, and _how_ they were doing it, Mother," he explained, grinning. "I followed Billius everywhere and noted how he and Gaius handled things. They only want me there for my name - because they couldn't get Father or Uncle Salazar in his time to sit there with them. I am only to be their puppet as far as they are concerned, but I saw the flaws in their system. It is mostly based on the old Council, and not many people are happy with that. They want something new.

"Billius and Gaius, though they had worked against the Council in their time, know nothing else but the way it used to work. They are too old and set in their ways to make major changes. But I can, and I will. I talked with a few junior clerks that have been helping them for a while. They have virtually no say in anything. Billius and Gaius handle everything with steely hands. Most of those people - my age or a little older, disagree with a lot of the decisions that go around there, but since they have no say, they can't do anything about it.

"If Billius and Gaius induct me into their circle, I can pretend to cooperate for a while and gather strength from those ranks that are smothered by those two, and when I have a strong enough base of support, they will have no option but allow me leeway. That way I can finally make a change and completely reform the system of government. What do you think?"

Godric and Rowena exchanged glances. Godric could see her fighting a proud grin. He did not even bother to hide his smile. He got up and clapped his son on the shoulder. "Ryan," he said. "I think that this is a plan worthy of your Uncle Salazar. He would have been very proud of you, and so are we. Just bear in mind -don't let that get into your head. It may be a fantastic success, or the worst failure. But even if you fail at first, don't give up. There is merit to your plan, and I am sure that you can make it work."

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After that, Ryan made frequent journeys to Stonehenge. Sometimes he would be gone for a whole week, sometimes for just a day. Every time he came back he had more news to tell - of new supporters he had managed to get, of something he managed to convince Gaius and Billius to do, or of any number of things that often would leave Godric in stitches, thinking of the expression on Billius' face were he to understand that his young protégé was undermining his authority.

But while his troubles with Ryan subsided, he once again became aware of Ceri's numerous disappearances. She would often come back late, or sneak out when she thought her parents did not notice. Rowena had said to let it go, that she was only having fun, her being a young girl, youthful and mischievous as her brother. She said that they should let her be, not keep a tight watch on her. Considering his wife's reaction to Ryan's decision only a little while before, he found that very strange. It was as though her mind and views were completely changed where Ceri was concerned.

She was just a little girl, their Ceri. His heart clenched whenever he thought of one day letting her go.

Godric had adored his little girl practically since the day she was born. How could he not? She was his little girl. She was a beautiful child with her mother's auburn hair and his blue eyes. She was stunning, and he had always known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that one day he would have to accept that she, like all children, has grown and is ready to start a life of her own. He was preparing himself for it for years. He just did not expect that time to come so soon.

She was so young.

Therefore, twinned with that belief that she would never do anything he disapproved of, what his daughter had in store for him that day when he was peacefully playing a match of Wizard's Chess against Ryan in the cheery main chamber of their quarters, took him completely by surprise.

"Say that again, dear?" he said absently, his mind on the match.

"I'm going to get married."

This time he _did_ catch her words. He shot out of his chair like an arrow from a bow, his eyes wild and wide. "You're _what_!"

"Getting married, Father," she beamed, her lovely face brightening up as though lit from the inside. "Isn't that just absolutely wonderful?"

For a moment all Godric could do was to stare at his baby girl. She was wearing an exquisite green gown, a gift from her aunt which complimented her figure. For the first time, he finally realized that this was no girl in front of him, but a woman.

"And _whom_, may I ask, is the intended bridegroom?" he asked in a much chillier tone than he had planned. He stifled a wince, knowing that he could not back down. Not this time.

"Why, Aiden, of course!" she said, still smiling.

"Aiden?" he gritted. "Aiden the_ potter_?"

"Y…yes," she mumbled, her smile faltering, her big blue eyes much less bright.

"I'm going to kill him," Ryan said behind him, getting up, his voice cold as Godric's own. "I am going to strangle him with my own bare hands."

"_Ryan!_" Ceri cried. "You will do no such thing! Father, really! I thought you'd be happy for me!"

"Happy?"

"Yes! Happy! I thought that my getting married would be a joyous thing for you!"

"You are wrong, Ceridwen."

"Wrong about what?"

"You are not getting married."

**Ta-da! End of the last but one chapter! What did you think? Would Ryan kill Aiden? Would everything go well for the young lovers? Wasn't Godric completely oblivious? Tell me what you think!**

**Next chapter is on Tuesday in a week, as per usual. I would most likely post it earlier than usual, because it's already been written a long time ago and I've gone through it numerous times to see if something is missing.**

**Hope you enjoyed this week's update!**

**Hugs and kisses to all!**

**-Star of the North**


	31. In Life and Death

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Well, my friends, the end is near, and this story must soon face the final curtain. This is the last chapter. Next week will be the Epilogue and that is where _Tale of a Time Long Gone_ must end. This is not a final goodbye to you all, but prepare yourselves for it, as I must myself…

Chapter is from Ceri's point of view.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 30 – In Life and Death**

_"Nowadays, young witches and wizards prefer the various Muggle ceremonies over the traditional Wizard Bonding. They deem it too complex and too tedious to follow._

_"In the olden days, however, all magical folk were married by the ancient lore._

_"The conductor of the ceremony was always the village or community elder - a man, of course. In the conductor's power was to annul the marriage, were it deemed unworthy. The conductor had a staff of office - a cleanly cut branch of Oak or Birch - and he usually wore a wreath of oak leaves around his head._

_"The ceremony was an intricate procedure, containing many texts, incantations and oaths. It is widely believed that it was created by Merlin, and while his name is blessed throughout the country, many a young wizard and witch had cursed him while standing for hours just so they could be wedded…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown**

"What… did you say?" Ceri let out with difficulty, not quite believing her ears.

"I said no, Ceri," Godric said firmly.

Never in her life did Ceri doubt her father's judgment. Until now. He always seemed to her fair and reasonable, but - but _this_!

"No?" much like her mother, when angry, her voice became deceptively calm - right before she would shout herself hoarse. "You will refuse me this one wish? When I never asked one thing of you?"

"I will not have this man as your husband!" he thundered.

Even though she would never admit it, Ceri was frightened at that moment. A fear so strong that it had overridden her anger as it engulfed her. For her, Godric Gryffindor was simply a grand name which had some vague connection to her - a title given more than a name. She had never seen in him what others had seen, that frightening spectacle of the battle against the Council. To her he had always been that cheerful man with the mane of black hair and twinkling eyes that had held her up on his shoulders so that she would be able to watch her mother dueling Aunt Helga in occasional exhibitions meant to teach the students the realities of battle. He was always the one to crack a joke at the dinner table and cause her to splutter her food on everything and everyone around her, making her mother sigh exasperatedly and clean the mess with a whoosh of her wand. The same man who had chased her around the school in an impromptu game of hide-and-seek or taught her how to play Wizard Chess. Her father.

Not this time, though. Now his wild mane seemed to move in a nonexistent gale and his blue eyes received a frozen edge, one she had only seen directed at people who came demanding things of him without any right. He seemed to stand up straighter than she had ever seen him and to fill the entire room with his presence. She now saw for the first and only time the image everyone else had seen whenever looking at him. Not a loving father, not a gentle man with nothing but admiration in him, but the great wizard and fearsome opponent of Ambrosius, Godric Gryffindor.

"It's not your choice to make!" she bravely confronted him, though her voice felt too squeaky to her ears. "I love him!"

"You know nothing about love!" he spat, his eyes blazing as he strode nearer her, making her back away unconsciously. "You are not even eighteen."

"Since when does love know boundaries?" she demanded, now on firmer ground, glad to be given that opening, now thinking herself able to make a stand. "You married Mother late - but Grandmother and Grandfather were married at seventeen! She told me!"

"Ceridwen Rhiannon Rosalind Helga!" he roared just like the lion he had chosen as his symbol. "You will not marry this potter's son and that is my final word on the subject! I will not hear you utter his name in my vicinity, and so help me Merlin, I will do whatever is necessary to keep him away from you. Do not give me cause to do this!"

She could practically feel the eyes of all her forefathers staring down at her disdainfully in the mere tone of her father's voice, telling her she is the shame of their line. Her determination to stand against his decision wavered, her body knowing that which her mind refused to admit. Glancing at her brother for support, and finding no comfort in those unusually cold eyes, she let out a mute cry of despair and ran out of her father's study and out, through the empty, cold corridors, to the grounds of the Castle. She needed to be out and by herself for a while, to recompose herself, to make a plan of attack. She needed to think clearly, but all she could do, so she found as she fell to her knees by the tree on the shore of the lake, was cry bitterly, knowing that there was no swaying her father once he had decided on something.

She went to her father first because it seemed to be the logical thing to do. Her mother was a dominant figure in her life, that much was true, but her father was always the one whose approval she looked for since it was always slightly easier than going to her mother. Mother had always been a strict person. Loving, but extremely stern. Now she deemed it a terrible mistake.

"You were wrong in going to Godric first, dear child," a quiet voice startled Ceri out of her moodiness, confirming her inner thoughts. She whirled around to face her Aunt Helga who was leaning on the other side of the tree with her arms crossed, to all purposes staring at the cloudy sky.

The older woman was always a favourite of Ceri. She was always cheerful and had a kind word to whoever needed it. She had time for everybody - not just for her own children who were like cousins to Ceri. She was almost like a second mother to her, pampering her as her mother rarely did. She did not wonder how she could have known of Ceri and Godric's argument. The three founders of Hogwarts always seemed to know everything that went around them, whether it was their business or not.

"Why?" Ceri asked timidly, partly knowing the reason and afraid to meet her aunt's eyes.

"Because such things are best taken to Rowena first," Helga said lightly, kneeling beside Ceri and touching a soft hand to her cheek. "She would have had no trouble at all making Godric listen and accept that which is so obvious, if only you would have gone to her first. She had been keeping it a secret for very long just so you could be happy. Don't prove her wrong."

It was something that Ceri had _not_ expected. "But Mother always does everything Father tells her!" she burst, unable to stop herself.

Helga raised an eyebrow. "Does she, really? Isn't that curious? I never noticed that."

"Doesn't she?" Ceri asked in puzzlement.

Helga laughed. "Oh, love, you have so much yet to learn. You children think you know everything about everything. It reminds me of your mother when she had been younger. But truly, Ceri, Rowena Ravenclaw? Do something Godric Gryffindor tells her to do without argument? You have got to be jesting. It is the other way around. Oh, naturally Rowena lets him tell her things and order you children around, but why do you think he changes his mind so often, saying he reconsidered the next day? There is an art to that, as I understand it. I never needed it with Ilar, but your parents being who they are… Go to your mother, dear. See if he does not change his mind."

Ceri was not sure of how to take Helga's words. It always seemed to her and Ryan that their mother deferred to their father a lot. It looked like the natural way of things in the house. The idea that it was actually the other way around was strange even to consider. She would need to ask her mother about that 'art' of hers - that is, _after_ she would see if it really _did_ work, and at the moment, her doubts were great.

"Where can I find Mother?" she finally asked, lifting her eyes to meet those of her aunt.

"Where else?" Helga chuckled, patting her shoulder and then getting up to her feet so that she could leave. "In her drawing room, studying this or that. You should know better than ask, Ceri. You know your mother well."

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"Mother?" Ceri called softly, a slight tremour in her voice. Where did that disturbance in her voice come from? She never had any trouble conversing with her mother and surely not since Rowena had witnessed Aiden and Ceri doing certain things that should not be mentioned to Godric in a deserted corridor. They had many a conversation concerning the physical side of a relationship after that, and Rowena had set certain boundaries to that, causing Ceridwen to blush quite a bit with her bluntness. Only now did Ceri truly perceive what a mistake it had been to go to Godric instead of Rowena. Rowena had known it was coming a long time before Ceridwen did. Aunt Helga was right.

She was standing in her mother's circular drawing room, her eyes darting this way and that, wondering where in Merlin's name could her mother be. "Mother?" she called again, this time the tremour growing much more pronounced, her voice wavering this way and that like a young tree in the wind. "Are you in here? Aunt Helga said you will be. Mother?"

"Up here, love," a voice drifted hazily from the direction of the ceiling.

Startled, Ceri looked up and her eyes widened in shock when they met the sight above. Glued to the ceiling was her mother. Her auburn hair, so much like Ceri's own, fell from its careful binds, streaming down in shiny waves. Her skirts were gone, replaced by a worn pair of Godric's old trousers. One hand was holding a palette, and the other was stretched before her. She was painting.

"Do close your mouth, dear," she said without looking down, squinting at a vine she had outlined with a charcoal stick, a brush loaded with green paint poised fractions of a distance from the ceiling. "It's impolite."

Ceri closed her mouth, knowing too well to disobey her. She had the tendency to glare when angered. Many a student learned very early on that when Headmistress Ravenclaw was glaring, it was better for them to sit down and be quiet - or else. That imminent 'or else' was the only way in which Ceri had ever seen her mother assert herself, and thinking it over, she realized that this was quite enough. She should have known better. Mentally cursing herself, she found a padded chair not covered with books or parchments and settled down to wait.

With a sigh Rowena released her brush. The small object remained floating in the air, while Rowena herself sank back to the ground gracefully.

Ceri had always admired her mother. Her confident grace and quiet presence figured highly in Ceri's life. Even now, clad in a man's clothes, she held herself with dignity surmounting that of all the pampered little princesses that filled the halls of the Castle these days. Each one of those princesses lost their arrogance once faced with Rowena Ravenclaw in one of her moods.

"Well?" Rowena asked after putting down her palette, her hands on her hips. One of her greatest flaws, Ceri perceived, was her impatience for dilly-dallying, but she had to admit that even that had its charm at times. At least that way she got things done twice as fast than if she would have allowed it. Rowena did not hold with people wasting her time. "What is it, child?"

"Mother, I…"

"It's about Aiden, isn't it?"

Ceri was not surprised. Surprise at her mother was something she had lost a long time ago. It always seemed like Rowena knew everything about everything - just as Aunt Helga had suggested. Ceri remembered all those times when Ryan had attempted hexing her behind their mother's back. Rowena had always stopped him, even when it seemed like she was engrossed in some old, dusty tome. It had aggravated both children to no end at times - especially when they had wanted to sneak out at night and frighten the new students.

She took a deep breath. "Yes, Mother, it is."

"Let me guess," Rowena said wearily, bringing a hand up to rub her temple, a motion that had become a trademark of hers throughout the years. "You thought it was a good idea to ask your father for permission to marry the boy, and he almost had your head for it? Not surprising, really."

"How… how did you know?"

"Call it woman intuition," she said dryly. "I've known your father for over twenty years, Ceri, and I had any number of arguments with him over your dear boy, though he never quite realized they _were_ arguments. He does not approve of your choice, as you have discovered at your cost. I suppose I should have informed you of this earlier, but I had too many other things to do."

"What about you, then, Mother? Do you disapprove as well?" Ceri asked in a small voice, somewhat stung by the indifferent words.

Rowena laughed, and Ceri knew that everything will be all right. She never grew tired of hearing her mother laugh. When she had been little she used to try and make her mother laugh as many times as she possibly could. "It is not my business to approve or disapprove!" Rowena said, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Your choice is undisputedly yours, and I trust you with all my heart. As you have asked, however, I will give you my opinion.

"I am extremely fond of Aiden, and as he had been in my own House, I grew to know him better than your father did. He is a good boy, and an honourable one, though I do believe you have swayed him off the honourable path a couple of times since you have met. He is bright and will be able to keep his own with you, and definitely with your father and brother.

"So, in short, yes, I approve of your choice and will be happy to call Aiden my son."

Ceri felt tears dripping down her cheeks.

"Oh, hush, love," Rowena said softly, enfolding Ceri in her arms, making it all better. "Everything will be all right. Now, listen carefully. Go to your room, wash your face, do your studies, rest, and tomorrow everything will be as it should be. I promise you that."

Ceri went to sleep early that night, but her sleep was not restful. Her dreams were hectic and frightening, all ending with her father's blue eyes glaring at her, his lips spelling words of shame.

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Ryan would not speak to her the next morning. He got out of his bed very early in the morning, and though she picked her head up to receive a good-morning kiss, he ignored her and left their room. She was understandably distraught. In many years, Ryan had never failed to show he cared for her. He had always been there for her, but now… she was afraid of getting her father's agreement at the cost of her brother.

As she entered the dining room for breakfast, Godric all but ignored her, his face a thunderstorm. It seemed like he was taking his anger on his food, stabbing it with his knife repeatedly. Stricken, she sent her mother a sideways glance. Rowena's eyes were trained on Godric, and were clouded. She was frowning, and Ceri's heart sank just a little. Maybe putting all her trust in her mother was not such a good idea as it first seemed.

She did not have any appetite that morning, but her mother insisted on her eating all the same. Ceri felt like a little girl once more, being told that she must not get away from the table before finishing all that was on her plate. Rowena had always been adamant on that account - making sure her children ate well, whether they wished it or not. Then she told Ceri to take herself outside and find Ryan, straighten things out with him. There was an undertone to her words, but for the life of her, Ceri could not think what it meant.

Doing as she was told, she wrapped a cloak around herself and left to look for her brother.

It did not take her long to find him, though he attempted to be elusive, covering his tracks. She, however, did not bother at all with tracks. She did not need them. He was exactly where she had expected him to be - in the place she had dubbed, a long time before, when they were both children, his 'brooding place': a small enclosure of rocks to the shore of the lake where he could sit unnoticed, away from his sometimes pestering sister and their somewhat eccentric parents. Now he was standing at the water's edge, staring into the distance, his hands clasped behind his back, still as a rock. A dark figure against a grey shore, cold and alone.

"Ryan?" she called softly.

She saw his shoulders stiffening, but he did not turn.

"Ryan, please turn around?"

He ignored her.

Feeling her temper rise, she gritted "Turn now, or I'll _make_ you turn."

His head straightened and she could see the resoluteness in his stance. He was set on ignoring her, even if it would be the last thing he ever did. She would have to make him turn, because in the name of his stiff-necked pride, inherited from their father, he would not turn by himself, and that, as far as she was concerned, was unacceptable. She picked up several small stones from the ground, smoothed by years of touching water, and took careful aim. She had always been a good shot - better than any of her friends, and definitely better than Ryan.

"Listen to me, my dear, imbecilic brother," she growled, throwing a small stone at him, only very narrowly missing him - narrowly enough to catch his attention, "and listen to me carefully. I love Aiden," -she threw another stone, making him dodge as he half turned to face her- "and there's nothing you," -another stone- "or Father," -and another- "or anyone else for that matter," -and another- "can do to make me change my mind. I have loved him for so long that you would faint to hear the number of years. I am going to marry him with or without your blessing, because, frankly, though I love you and Father dearly, I could not care less of what you think of this marriage. If I have to elope, then I will elope - don't think I will not. Mother, I'm sure, would approve.

"My life is with Aiden, and I don't care at all what you might think of him. If you hurt him - if you even _threaten_ to hurt him, I will hurt you tenfold. Are we clear on that? I love you, Ryan, and I'd rather have you by my side when I marry, but Merlin help me - if you make me angry, you will rue the day our parents conceived you.

"I don't have anything else to say to you. Come talk to me when you are ready to be mature and to accept the fact that Aiden _will_ be my husband and your brother at that." Huffing, and after using all her stones to accent her points, she left.

She did not even have to wait twenty heartbeats before she heard running feet behind her. She did not stop or slow down, but made him trot in order to catch up with her.

"I'm sorry, Ceri," he muttered, not meeting her eyes as she glanced his way. "I have no right opposing your choice."

"Too right you are," she said heartlessly, but seeing the stricken look on his face - and the bruise caused by one of the stones that did _not_ miss their target - she softened her words. "But that doesn't mean I don't love you. I'm glad you have decided to come to your senses."

"I'm glad as well."

"I had no doubt that you will see it my way, you know," she said, a grin starting to appear on her lips.

"Oh?"

"I always had you wrapped around my littlest finger, after all."

"Why, you-" he mock-growled and then, with a wicked smile on his handsome features, he turned on her and, reaching out, started tickling her mercilessly.

With a squeal, she bolted, trying to avoid his evil fingers.

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"Invite the boy."

Ceri thought that she must have heard wrong. Perhaps she had grass clogging her ears after her mock fight with Ryan, or perhaps she was dreaming - that was quite possible as well. Just last night her father adamantly refused to even hear of the possibility that his daughter would marry a potter's son, and only that morning he had completely ignored her. How could he have changed his mind all of a sudden?

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said," he growled, his eyes flashing, "-invite the boy."

Ceri flinched, thinking her father's anger was directed at her, but as she turned, preparing herself to go and pay a visit to Aiden in the Ravenclaw quarters, she caught sight of Rowena, leaning on the doorway to Godric's study, her arms crossed. Godric's eyes were on her, and they were ablaze.

As she left her parents' rooms, she could clearly hear her mother's voice piercing the loud silence. "You could have done it more graciously."

She could not hear her father's reply, for it was said in a low snarl. Ceri would have given a lot to know what her mother had told him while she was having fun with her brother. Not something that he liked to hear, it seemed. She could not remember ever seeing her parents at odds like that. They argued a lot, that much was true, but never like this.

"Godric Gryffindor!" Rowena's voice rang, pulling Ceri out of her pondering, startling her. "When that boy comes here, you will be pleasant, you will be polite, and I do _not_ want to hear another word from you on the subject. Are we clear?"

Alarmed, Ceri closed the door behind her and went to find Aiden.

She had never heard her mother issuing orders to her father. But now she realized that what Aunt Helga had told her the day before had to be true. The tone her mother had just used had apparently made her father, begrudgingly as it was, defer to her all the same. She felt hope flood her.

Her nervousness returned, however, as she approached the tapestry which covered the entrance to the Ravenclaw quarters and separated her from the man she loved. What would she tell Aiden who was anxiously waiting for her to tell him that she had obtained her father's blessing? He _did_ say, after all that they had to have his blessing for this. As much as she enjoyed threatening Ryan with elopement, she knew that this was not an option as far as Aiden was concerned. He wanted her father's consent. Worse, he wanted her father's _approval_. Men could be so frustrating.

"_Thestral Wing_," she murmured to the maiden on the tapestry and as it moved stepped into the Ravenclaw Commons.

Almost as soon as she entered she was engulfed in Aiden's arms. He bent his head to kiss her, but she reluctantly yet resolutely pushed him away. She knew she would see the hurt in his eyes were she to look up, and therefore kept her eyes down.

"I have yet to get his consent, Aiden," she said, tears suddenly stinging her eyes. She felt her lip curling into an involuntary pout and her voice trembling again. She never felt this vulnerable before. She gathered the courage to look up at him, and what she saw almost broke her heart.

"Oh," he said, his bright eyes suddenly downcast. "He doesn't want a Muggle-born as his son, does he?"

"That's not it," she grimaced, remembering the bad days before Uncle Salazar had left. "He never agreed with Uncle Salazar on that matter. He doesn't care you are Muggle-born. He just doesn't want a potter's son as his son. Father has his… peculiar views of things. He claims to think equally of all, but in fact his highborn education often gets the better of him. Grandmother always says that it was her fault, since she was always too busy with matters of the highborn class to take into account what kind of ideas it might put into his head."

Seeing his broken expression, and feeling his hands letting go of hers, she had to say something. Tightening her grip on his hand, she said "However, he _is_ willing to give you a chance. You're to have tea with us this afternoon. Have a light conversation with Father, and make him see what a loveable man you are, all right? I have faith in you. It all depends on the impression you make, so try not being too nervous."

She felt his grip tightening on her fingers again in return and she hid a smile. "I'll meet you outside our quarters at four past noon sharp."

He nodded, though as she left, his eyes had a somewhat haunted quality to them. Having seen the other side of her father the day before, she now did not feel bewilderment at his apparent anxiety. There was cause for worry wherever Godric Gryffindor was concerned she now knew. Yes. The impression Aiden would make would be central to Father's decision. And if he failed, Ceri guessed that not even her mother would be able to make him move again.

When she met Aiden that afternoon outside her parents' quarters he was wearing a nice blue doublet and had brushed his hair carefully. He looked wonderful, but she did not think it would be quite enough for her father. Aiden was very nervous, his eyes darting from one side to another, his hands restless as he strode toward her.

"All right?" he asked almost breathlessly as he closed the distance between them. There was a tremour in his voice, and it took all Ceri could do to stifle a wince. Being nervous was a thing that her father was sure to spot immediately and dislike. She forced herself to smile.

"You look wonderful," she assured him. "Are you ready?"

Wrong question, she surmised, as he turned a slight shade of green at the prospect. He did nod, however, and gulped down, then taking a deep breath. "Let's go."

And so they went in, and the door shut ever so fatefully behind them.

An hour later Ceri could not believe her eyes, nor could she believe her ears. Godric and Aiden were sitting side by side, exchanging jests and tales of their adventures in the wide world - or at least the British Isles. Her father had completely transformed within the course of that one hour.

He was now polite, friendly, laughed at Aiden's recollections of his school days and all in all, seemed to like him.

She supposed it had something to do with her mother sitting next to her father, holding his hand. A wifely gesture if she ever saw one, but she doubted that was what her mother had in mind. For what could be called the first time in her life, Ceri saw both her parents as they really were: the greatest witch and wizard of the time, entirely equal in their power, each stubborn and set in his or her ways. This time, her mother had the upper hand.

She watched Rowena curiously, intent on seeing what made her father this obedient. Her mother was wearing her favourite dark blue gown which complimented her still slim and attractive figure, her hair in a respectable bun as it always was when in company. She was smiling and laughing with the rest of them, but her eyes were hard and that hardness was solely directed at Godric, for every time she spoke to Aiden or to Ceri and Helga, their expression softened. She would not relent and certainly would not take any nonsense from her husband. Not this time.

More than once Ceri saw her father glancing in her mother's direction. Every time he did that, _her_ eyes grew even harder and she squeezed his hand in what appeared to be a very painful way.

"You see how well she plays him?" Aunt Helga whispered in an amused voice. The woman had inserted herself into the meeting without an eyebrow being raised from either Rowena or Godric. That was just the way it worked at Hogwarts. Everyone knew that.

"Plays him? She practically bullied him into it!"

"That is what your father needs, dear. He never responds to subtler ways. You mother says he's thick, but I believe he merely enjoys ignoring her. It's his little way of getting back at her. When Aiden and you would grow to know each other as a couple, you will find your own ways of expressing your utter possession of each other."

"Why did they get married if they always fight?" Ceri marveled, starting to feel miserable.

Aunt Helga chuckled softly. "Oh, Ceri. You have so much to learn - I have told you that before. Godric and Rowena love each other fiercely. They just happen to be the most stubborn people in the world. So they fight and argue. Sometimes Raven wins, sometimes Godric does."

"So if Mother would have been the one to lose-"

"Then I'd have stepped in," Aunt Helga said, her dark eyes serious, her tone firm. "You are almost one of my own in my eyes. I have watched over you whenever that pair was too busy. I still have a say in this, no matter what Godric wishes to believe, and I support your decision just as much as your mother does. He would not have been able to hold his position if both Rowena and I would have opposed him. Not if he did not want to spend the rest of his life as a petrified stump.

"However," the humour returned to her eyes, "I had no doubt that Raven would win this one. Godric loves you too much to really forbid this wedding. He might huff and grumble, but in the end he will give in. Do not doubt that, child."

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It took one afternoon to completely change Godric's view of the matter. Within the space of that one afternoon he had formed an entirely new opinion on Aiden. Suddenly Aiden became a welcomed guest in the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw quarters. He could be found there almost every evening, joining the family in their quiet time together, visiting for an occasional dinner or playing a game of Wizard Chess with Ryan or Godric. Losing repeatedly to Ryan made them fast friends. Ceri, knowing Aiden's skills in the game, had to stifle a chuckle every time the blond young man cheerfully acknowledged his loss.

Soon enough Aunt Helga and Rowena, along with Grandmother Ceridwen, Aunt Dahlia and a few women from the village, started planning the wedding that would take place during the Spring Festival. Ceri was alarmed by the seriousness in which they had all taken it. Apparently there was much more to a wedding than simply binding yourself to your spouse. There were gowns to make, flower arrangements to be obtained and created, wedding feast to plan and make, invitations to be delivered, music to be sorted and many other details that she had no idea where the older women got them.

As wintertime passed and the Spring Festival drew ever closer, she saw less and less of Aiden. Her father and Ryan had taken him to his home to discuss things with his parents, and two weeks after they had left, Aiden's mother, aunt and sisters found their way to the Castle and joined the planning crew, immediately falling into step with what the others had already planned. Ceri had no idea where Aiden was, but his sisters ensured her that he was still alive and well.

The wedding gown was completed a month before the appointed time and by that point Ceri felt that all she wanted was to run away and hide - possibly elope as she had threatened Ryan. Being scrutinized by a dozen women every day was not her idea of fun. They all had their views and they all had their comments to make. At some point Rowena had a very vocal argument with Aiden's aunt, Maire, which was only settled after a long negotiation, done by Aunt Helga and Donella, Aiden's mother. It was over the colour theme of the hall where the couple would be married. Maire very narrowly avoided being hexed.

And then, all of a sudden, as though no time had passed, the wedding day had arrived.

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Dear Merlin, was she really about to get married in only a few hours? She was only eighteen! What was she _thinking_? These were the first thoughts that ran through Ceri's head as her mother gently shook her awake at the crack of dawn.

She only had until midday to change her mind, and by the thoughts running around her mind, there was no doubt that she _would_ do just so. Her mind was clogged with thoughts of running away and hiding until the next day, thoughts of going back to bed and put her head under the pillow, pretending this was not happening.

But it was happening. Dear Merlin, it _was_. She was practically dragged out of bed, served a hurried, light morning meal, knowing that a great feast would follow the Ceremony at noon and then hurried along to be washed, primped and readied for her last day as an unmarried woman.

Oh, Merlin.

She was thrown into a steaming bath, soaped and scrubbed and washed over and over again until she radiated pink. Then she was put into her undergarments and her hair was pulled and brushed, curled and braided until it satisfied whoever it was who was doing it - she did not recognize the touch. Her face was decorated with colour that she had never been allowed to put on and clouds of scent were applied to her unresisting body.

She had no idea who was making her ready, everything going around her in a blur. Before she knew it, she was stuffed into the richly embroidered scarlet silk that was her masterpiece of a wedding gown, and decorated with jewelry she never knew she had.

Everything turned round and round in crowds of smiling, chatting, loud women. She felt her surroundings become hazy and unstable. Her panic grew. Suddenly she did not know who she was or what she was doing there.

"Here, Ceri," someone suddenly addressed her directly for the first time that day since her mother shook her awake and she vaguely recognized it as Aunt Helga, her golden hair in an elaborate knot, her dark green gown accenting her unique eyes, which sparkled as she looked at her almost-niece. Ceri attempted to focus on her, but everything wobbled. "Take a look at yourself. My, but you are beautiful."

Ceri took one look at herself in the image Aunt Helga had conjured for her, and tears started splashing down her cheeks, unchecked.

"What is it? What is it, Ceri? Is anything wrong?" a multitude of women surrounded her immediately, clucking over her head, making her tears fall in an even greater flood. What was going on? What was she to do? The tears came down and refused to be dammed. She wanted out.

Dimly, she could hear Aunt Dahlia say "Someone bring Rowena here _immediately_. She's the most qualified to take care of this."

Minutes later, she could hear her mother's voice enquiring as to what was going on and why they were not all doing their duties with the wedding almost upon them. Then she appeared in Ceri's view, her brow frowning and her hazel eyes narrowed.

"All of you, if you have nothing to do here then get out or I shall _hex_ you out. Get going! We have a wedding to make! Helga, go oversee the hall," her mother snapped at the surrounding women. Almost as though a spell had been uttered, the space around her cleared, and the sound of feet hurriedly leaving the room was heard. Her mother had that effect on people.

She could hear her mother sighing and felt her kneeling by her, only then realizing she had sunk to the floor in her bout of tears.

"What is the matter, Ceri?" Rowena asked softly, her fingers wiping away the tears, smoothing her hair away.

"I… I… I _can't_ do it!"

"Why not?"

"Because… bec-because m-my gown is-s r-ruined!"

"Ruined? Why is it ruined?"

Ceri gestured violently at the coppery-embroidered scarlet gown, showing her mother how wrinkled and creased it was. To her surprise, instead of clucking at her like the other women had done, her mother made a small, strange sound at the back of her throat. Looking up at her through her tears, she could see that the older woman's face was contorted in an expression of ill-subdued mirth. Seeing Ceri's hurt look, Rowena lost all restraints and started laughing.

"That's it?" she gasped through gales of laughter. "That is _it_? My dear girl, could you have found a more foolish excuse?"

Ceri was outraged. How dare her mother mock her so? She was desolate! She was in tears! It was her mother's duty to hug her and say that everything would be all right and that she could just go back to bed and forget the whole thing ever happened. She was _not_ supposed to laugh at her misery, practically rolling on the floor beside her.

Then Rowena stopped laughing and quirked an eyebrow at her daughter. Ceri knew that look. It said that she needed to look back at this moment that had passed again and consider everything before opening her mouth and saying something completely idiotic. Numerous times she had tried staring her mother back, and failed each time. After looking away from her mother's eyes, she sighed. "I'm acting like a child and a complete fool, am I not?"

"Very well put, child," Rowena said with a smile, straightening her blue skirts. "Feeling any better?"

"A little," she admitted in a very small voice.

Her mother smiled at her, taking one of her hands in her own. "You look wonderful, my dear," she said softly, touching Ceri's soft hair with a delicate hand. "No need to fret. Now sit down and take deep breaths. If you muss your gown, do not fly into pieces. That's why we have magic. We can fix it with a wave of a wand. Now relax. You're doing the right thing, so stop thinking about it, all right?"

Nodding mutely, Ceri leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Her mother was right. She was always right. There was no need to fret, worry or overexert herself. The mothers and sisters and aunts had everything under control. They seemed to enjoy going into pieces when a single flower went out of place, so why should _she_ add to the commotion? Sighing, she relaxed her entire body and allowed the noise surrounding her to become a background.

Almost before she knew it, her mother was leading her to the Great Hall with her aunts and grandmother in tow, stirring her away from anything that could ruin her gown unwittingly. She could barely catch sight of friends and family standing, filling the hall before she was standing on a slightly raised dais, a very dazed-looking Aiden at her side, her father in front of her, splendid in his role as the conductor of the Ceremony, his face both serene and proud. She felt her mother release her grip on her elbow and settling by her side.

She had no time to think, no time to say anything to Aiden, no time to thank her mother. The Ceremony was already underway.

"Earlier this year, Helga, Rowena and I had traveled to London in order to say our final farewell to our friend and fellow Founder, Salazar Slytherin. Salazar was a great friend and a great man. I could not have had a better companion throughout the years than him.

"Were he still amongst us, Rowena and I would have asked him to be the Conductor of Ceremony in our daughter's wedding, for he was the eldest among us four and as good as her uncle.

"Unfortunately, Salazar had passed away, and this occasion is tinted with sadness because of it. Also, because of it I have taken upon myself to conduct the ceremony. I will trust no other to hand my daughter to her future husband. That said, it is time to begin." With those words, something in Godric had changed. He stood straight, even more splendid in his gold-embroidered red robes, the ring of oak leaves around his head bright green against his black hair and the staff of the Conductor steady in his big hand. His face was clean of emotion. He was the very epitome of an official Conductor of the Ceremony.

"Are Ceridwen Rhiannon Rosalind Helga Ravenclaw Gryffindor and Aiden Connor, the potter's son, present?" he boomed, heard in the farthest corners of the hall.

"My ward, Ceridwen Rhiannon Rosalind Helga is present and prepared to give her life in Bonding to Aiden Connor, the potter's son and take his in return."

Ceri, even in her excitement, could swear she heard her aunt muttering to herself as she stepped back into the front row "I told them the _girl_ would hate them? _I_ hate them. What a bloody mouthful…"

After Aunt Helga, Aiden's uncle called in a booming voice "My ward, Aiden Connor is present and prepared to take Ceridwen Rosalind Helga Dahlia Ravenclaw Gryffindor's life in Bonding and give his in return."

"Very well, thus the Cycle is completed," Godric said and then took a deep breath, readying himself to a long and, so her mother had warned her, tedious ceremony." In ancient times magic was not given to humans. It was one with the earth, one with the sky, one with the water. The passing of magic unto humans had not been intentional.

"Up to this day we have no idea what had happened to cause this, but what we _do_ know, is that once the magic had taken hold of the mortal bodies, it would not let go again. These two young people in front of us are living proof of that…"

Ceri did not hear the rest, or rather, did not listen. It was a long speech, enfolding within it the entire Wizarding history, Aiden and hers history and a whole lot of other things that meant nothing to her, including the occasional mutter of a spell. Instead, she allowed herself to be lost in Aiden's eyes. He was looking at her adoringly, and somewhere in the recesses of her mind she knew that her expression was not much different. She could not wait for the evening to be over and for a chance to be alone with him.

Her father, however, ignorant of those internal thoughts that were after all very personal, simply went on. She surfaced just in time to hear the conclusion of the Ceremony, and truth be told she only noticed because her mother elbowed her hard in the ribs.

"… Ceridwen Rhiannon Rosalind Helga is an heir to two noble lines. She is a strong witch, powerful and knowledgeable. She comes to this marriage with her dowry, given to her by her parents, Rowena Catrin Deryn Ravenclaw and Godric Gawain Rylan Gareth Gryffindor, and by her brother, Ryan Gawain Salazar Rhys Ravenclaw Gryffindor, and by her guardians, Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Ailill Searlas Slytherin. She comes as one who has completed her basic training in Hogwarts School, House of Ravencalw. What say you, Aiden Connor? Will you take Ceridwen Rhiannon Rosalind Helga Ravenclaw Gryffindor as an equal partner to you in all aspects of life? Will you be by her side whenever she needs you? Will you treat her as she deserves or otherwise face the wrath all her relatives will invoke upon you and who will stop at nothing to pay you back for the wrongs you had done to her?"

Ceri was quite sure that the last part did not actually appear in the formal text of the Wizard Bonding Ceremony. In fact, the glint in her father's eyes spoke the complete opposite.

Aiden did not look scared. He looked straight into Godric's eyes and nodded. "I will, Lord Gryffindor."

Her father nodded, satisfied, and continued. "Aiden Connor is the son of a Muggle potter. Even though his heritage is not of high stature, he managed to ascend to greatness, and fulfill the promise of his powers. He has made us all proud to be the ones to teach him. He comes to this marriage with a bride price given to him by his parents, Donella and Connor the potter, and by his sisters, Aine and Aisling, and his guardians, Conall the smith and Maire wife of Conall. He comes as one who has completed his basic training in Hogwarts School, House of Ravenclaw. What say you, Ceridwen Rhiannon Rosalind Helga? Will you take Aiden Connor, the potter's son, as equal partner in all aspect of life? Will you be by his side whenever he needs you?"

"I will, Father," she said with tears in her eyes.

"Then put your hands together on this staff and look into each other's eyes."

She never heard what her father had muttered, what kind of spell he had used, but when she let go of the staff, he said "The Ceremony is complete. Aiden Connor, the potter' son and Ceridwen Rosalind Helga Dahlia Ravenclaw Gryffindor are now man and wife in the eyes of all."

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Godric watched his little girl walking out of Hogwarts and towards the village where her new home had been built. Tears pricked his eyes. He did not want to see her go.

"We hate seeing our children walk away from us, Godric," he felt Rowena's arms snaking around his waist and her chin on his shoulder, her voice reverberating in his bones as she spoke. "But it is inevitable. We both had seen it coming a long time ago, even though we refused opening our eyes and accepting their feelings. Let her go, love, and be happy for them."

"I know I should," he sighed. "But she's only eighteen."

"I know, love. I know."

And so the sun set on the couple, bathing their tear-stained faces in a shimmering golden light. Perhaps a stage of their life, long and happy as it was, had just ended, never to return, but life went on, and they both knew that it was a life worth having.

**What can I say? This is almost the end… did you like the last chapter? Please tell me what you think - as always, it is very important to me. Next week is the _Epilogue_! Hope to see you all there!**

**Hugs and kisses to all!**

**-Star of the North**


	32. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

**A/N:** ((sniffles)) this is the end, my friends. There will be no more updates of _Tale of a Time Long Gone_. It is complete. I hope you have enjoyed reading this just as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I thank all my readers, and even more to those who reviewed and pushed me to go on. Special thanks are sent to all those who had faithfully reviewed almost each and every chapter in the past year and a bit - you know who you are, and you deserve all the hugs and kisses I can give you.

**_Important:_** I would greatly appreciate it if you still review this chapter even if you know there will be no more updates. I still want your opinion, and any questions you may have will still be answered via the replying system.

Also, I would like you all to read the Author's Note at the very end of the Epilogue. I have an announcement for you all, and I hope that you will like it.

**Epilogue**

_"Amongst the many rumours and mysteries that shroud the latter years of the Hogwarts Four, we are aware of one fact alone._

_"By Rowena Ravenclaw's final command, all four were entombed within one crypt, side by side, including Salazar Slytherin's body, which had been buried several decades prior and several hundred miles away._

_"Once all four were together again, Sir Raymond of the Loch, Rowena and Godric's grandchild, had sealed the tomb with a block of marble on which the school motto '_Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus'_ was embossed, along with the Hogwarts crest._

_"When all was done according to Rowena's orders, Sir Raymond had hidden the whereabouts of the tomb and erased all mention of its location from all records._

_"In years to come, many a witch and wizard would attempt penetrating the mystery and locate the Hogwarts Four's final resting place, but none would succeed, for it is too well disguised._

_"With the final entombment of the four, an era had ended. The story of Salazar, Godric, Rowena and Helga had reached to a close, but the tale of Hogwarts still continues, as does _Hogwarts, A History_…"_

**- Hogwarts, A History; Author Unknown**

Seeing her standing at the lake's shore, watching her supple, youthful movements and innate grace, one would never guess that she had passed her hundredth birthday almost two decades prior. It was evident, perhaps, in her slightly hunched posture and the occasional tremble of her hands when she was not concentrating. Her silver hair, knotted in a thick, tight bun, still had traces of auburn in it, hinting at the luscious shade that rich mane had once been. Her hazel eyes still showed neither fatigue nor tiredness of the world of the living. She carried no extra weight and was still considered attractive in the eyes of sixty-year-olds down at the village, those who were born long after she had arrived there, so many years ago.

Yet Rowena Ravenclaw, last living Founder of Hogwarts, longed for rest. She had had enough of being alone. She had lasted longer than anyone should have the right to expect, and in her heart she wanted nothing more than for it all to end. She was ready for death to come.

She had seen to all the needs of her children - be they her real offspring or her numerous students. She loved them all and had watched over them years after they had left her care. The children of her grandchildren's grandchildren were already expecting babies of their own. She had made sure they would all live in comfort. It was the least she could do, knowing that she will not be there for much longer.

Enough. She had seen to all their needs and closed all unfinished businesses she had had. She had no doubt that Hogwarts would go on flawlessly without her. Her actual part in its running had ceased to exist long before. She had had her fill of life. She had lost too many loved ones to go on living happily. Both her children had departed a few years before, her old friends were gone for many years now, and her beloved Godric had left her almost painlessly a little over six months prior. The thought of him still hurt every time.

He had still kept his charm and humour until the last possible moment, she remembered with a tight feeling in her chest. Even when he had gently held her hands in his big, callused ones and said farewell, he still had that slight twinkle in his eyes, the one she learned to associate with fun and mischief after years by his side. He had known she would not last long without him when he had kissed her goodbye and said "See you in a bit, love." Merlin knows, she had wanted to lie beside him and die the moment his eyes closed for ever, but deep in her heart she had known there were still things to complete, duties to perform. Rowena Ravenclaw knew the importance of duty and was not one to shy away from it, so she lingered on. Now she could finally join him.

No one would miss her. She had slowly withdrawn from the world of the living over the previous six months, getting her friends and family used to the idea that she will soon be gone. She would be just another old little lady passing away.

Rowena tightened her cloak around her fragile body and shivered as a cold gust of wind swept leaves from the forest in her direction. How many times had she watched this happen with the turn of the years? She remembered times when Helga and she would give the children a break and the little ones would dance and laugh amidst the swirling golden leaves. The daring ones would also attempt to sneak under their watch into the forest, but they would never let them get near enough, summoning them back if they got too dangerously close. Those had been the happy days, when they had only few children to teach and their responsibilities were fewer. It had been before the final confrontation with Ambrosius and the beginning of the attempts on their lives. It had been before Salazar's departure and the breaking of friendships long wrought in fire.

Children still did that these days, she mused. They still danced and twirled, and the daring ones still attempted to challenge authority. The children were different, but their behaviour was just the same. She had watched so many generations of children copying the actions of their elders.

Resolutely, she turned her back on the sparkling surface of the lake and the memories that were tied to it in unbreakable binds, and back to the castle that had been her home for nearly a hundred years. They had built it out of nothing, and the result was now this jewel that was admired all around. She still remembered the ruins of the Fort of Cormag. Who remembered these days that ancient name? Practically no one. It had been long since forgotten, drowned by the glory of Hogwarts.

She stepped into the Entrance Hall, still feeling awed even after all these years by its size and magnificence. She had seen this place when it was mere rubble, a pile of rocks long since abandoned. It amazed her each time anew that they were able to build all that - just the four of them.

_Four…_ they had not been four in such a long time.

She walked in the empty hall, passing the massive doors of the Great Hall on her way. They had been a gift from Sir Rhys' son, Ilar, when he had married Helga, snatching the sunny woman from Salazar. They had only been fitted a year later, after the birth of fair Rhian. It was so long ago. Ah, Sir Rhys… she had not thought about that kindly old man in years. He had lived even longer than his good friend, Lady Ceridwen, living long enough to see a multitude of grandchildren born to all his boys. He had died peacefully in his sleep long after her little Ceridwen's wedding, even though he had often said that all he needed for his life to be complete was to see that girl married and expected to die after the wedding. A wedding that had taken place right there in the Great Hall. Ah, little Ceri. Her bright ray of sunshine. Her beautiful little girl… marrying the man she loved in a hall that had such a weighty history…

And as for the Great Hall itself… They had once called it the Council Hall. They had named it thus as a joke at Ambrosius' expense, she remembered all too well. Those had been days when they could not be certain that they would not wake to find their home surrounded by a hundred Guards of the Chamber. Those had been days when she was afraid. Afraid for herself, afraid for her Godric, afraid for her children and her friends. Now she had nothing to be afraid of anymore. Soon enough, all she would know is peace.

After Ambrosius' demise, there had no longer been need of the joke, no need to counter fear with humour, so they had changed the name, and together with the name, the remnants of fear soon dissipated.

Feeling nostalgic, Rowena stepped into the Hall. It had been quite a while since last she had seen it. She found herself loath these days to face the students in the Castle. They were so _young_. They reminded her all too keenly how old she was and how out of place. But now the Hall was empty, and she could admire it at ease. She was still proud of the ceiling. Salazar had planned it - up to the most miniscule detail - and she and Helga had done the actual work. She could still remember it all-

"Good day, Headmistress!" a young girl greeted her, startling her from behind.

Headmistress. She had quit heading the school over a decade ago, finally agreeing with Godric that they were not quite as young as they used to be, and had stopped teaching long before that. She still remembered the row she had had with Godric when he had first suggested that they might give up running the school. In the end, however, she had relented, and it turned out to be the right thing to have been done. She had thought that they would be soon forgotten, but the new Headmaster and the teachers instructed all students to address them as though they were still holding that position. Rowena thought it was a rather nice gesture. Pointless, but nice all the same.

Good old Tristan. He was one of their first decade students - those who still had only the four of them as teachers - before the numbers became too great for them to handle the children alone. He was one of the few still living who had known Hogwarts at the time when all four Founders had lived and walked its echoing halls.

Soon there will be none of them left. Rowena had completed all her missions in life and was ready to join her friends and beloved on the other side of the veil. There was only one thing left to be done.

"Cathrine," she recalled the girl's name without difficulty, always a knack of hers. "Please run to the village and ask Sir Raymond to come here at once. I need a word with him and feel too tired to go there myself. Do tell him that."

_Ah… the village…_ once simply called the Loch, the village had taken on the name of Hogsmeade in honour of the four people who had brought it to its station of these days. That also had been so long ago. The children of the day did not even know of the old name. It had been forgotten.

Cathrine nodded and hurriedly ran out of the Hall, ecstatic that _the_ Headmistress asked her to do something for her and that she had actually known her name. Rowena stifled a chuckle. Young people were so eager to please.

She then gathered her thoughts again, telling herself that this was no time for nostalgia. There were still things to be done.

She made her way briskly to the rooms she had shared with Godric all those long, happy decades. She entered the circular drawing room that always belonged to her alone. Godric had been allowed there only at request, just as she would only be allowed in his study after asking permission. They had loved each other greatly, but they had needed their private space.

Once there, she did not sit down, but started riffling through boxes and shelves, pulling out parchments and parcels which she had meticulously wrapped and addressed over the past week or so. When she had everything she needed, she carried it all to the main chamber and set them on the great mahogany table at its centre. Once upon a time its shiny surface would have been covered by parchments, books, used quills and various documents, not to speak of used plates and cups of tea. Now it was clear most of the time, rarely used.

She settled to wait, conjuring herself a cup of tea to pass the time. She did not have long to do so. Raymond was soon there, huffing slightly. She supposed he had guessed the meaning of her urgent summons.

Sir Raymond, who, like his uncle before him, had busied himself with the new government of the British magic community, was a tall man, taking after his grandfather. He resembled Godric more than she was willing to admit, what with his tall stature and that full mane of dark brown hair, albeit his was much longer and Godric's hair had been black. His hair started graying, too, now that he was approaching his seventies. Godric's only started graying when he had turned eighty. She remembered teasing him about it, flouncing her dark-auburn hair that at the time had shown no sign of graying. It was so long ago.

Raymond fathered a massive clan of children to continue the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor legacy, and Rowena could not help but still feel amused at Godric's first reaction to his little girl's choice of a groom. It had taken her forever to convince him.

Rowena had always gotten along with Raymond, and knew that he had favoured her over all his other older female relatives. All of those women but her were long dead now, and she felt a certain pang of regret when she realized that this good man was going to lose the last thread to his childhood.

Quenching that errant feeling, she got up from her padded chair and approached her grandson with open arms and a smile. "Raymond, my dear," she said. "It has been too long."

"Hello, Grandmother," he greeted her with a light peck on the cheek, holding her as though he feared she will fall apart in his hands.

"I am not that fragile, you know," she reprimanded him and stood on tip-toes to kiss his cheek in return. "Do sit down, my boy. We have business to discuss."

Eyeing the parchments and parcels on the table gingerly, Raymond sat down in a chair facing her. His eyes darted back and forth between Rowena and the table. She could see that whatever suspicions he had when he received her summons were now confirmed.

"Grandmother-" he started, his voice rough, but she sharply shook her head. Just once, but it was enough. Raymond's mouth fell shut. Generations of children were practically conditioned to obey that particular gesture and Raymond was no exception.

"None of this now, Raymond," she said firmly, knowing that she could not allow him to break now. "We all knew this day would inevitably come. It had delayed long enough and it is time for me to take the last journey and rejoin with the rest of my generation."

The words _rejoin my Godric_ were left unsaid.

"But Grandmother," he protested, pain contorting his face. "You are not that old!"

She laughed; a sound still pure and young as it had been when she had first met Godric. Her beloved used to say that it reminded him of the sound made by silver bells.

"I am one hundred and seventeen, Raymond. I daresay that I am too old - pushing the antique, I should say," she said and then pointed at the collection on the table. "These are a few things that I would like taken care of after my departure, dear.

"First and foremost is to find and re-bury Salazar Slytherin's body in the same crypt as Helga, Godric and myself. Our separation had not been natural and it is fitting that the rift would be healed in death. I have discussed this with your grandfather before his death. If you fear this is being done against his will, rest assured that he had been the one to suggest this.

"Several months ago, I had made certain inquiries. I believe Salazar's great granddaughter, Selena, lives with her family at London. You will go to her and give her this letter-" she handed him a sealed parchment "-and do whatever it is you have to do in order to bring Salazar to rest here. If I remember correctly, Salazar had been buried in the magic burial grounds outside magic London, under a snake marker. Selena should be able to tell you for certain.

"After all four of us are buried, the crypt beneath Hogwarts must be sealed and hidden. I do not want us disturbed. Here you will find my burial outline and the writing I want engraved on the seal covering the crypt," she handed him two parchments and plodded on. "Here is a list in which you will find we have dictated where all of our earthly possessions are to be distributed. I expect you to follow the instructions explicitly."

There was a thick scroll sealed by the Hogwarts crest among the things on the table. "_This_," she said, pushing it towards him. "Must be guarded carefully, Raymond. I entrust you to keep it and hand it to Headmaster Tristan personally _after_ I am buried and the crypt sealed. It contains all of our plans for this school and details what we expect him to develop. _All_ secrets a Headmaster of Hogwarts must know are also included. He's a superstitious man, Raymond. Tell him that if he would not do as said, I _will_ know of it, and return to haunt him for his actions."

She surveyed the few things left on the table. "These are addressed to certain people. This parcel is for Salazar's great granddaughter, to be given to her together with the letter. Do not lose it, for it is one of his few belongings that remained after his wife's death. The rest had been taken by strangers, but this she had sent to me before her death since she could not reach her daughter. This one is for Helga's youngest grandson, and the last one is for your own granddaughter. I ask you to deliver them as soon as news of my death reaches you. That is all."

"That is all?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. "Just like that? No goodbye to the family? Nothing personal to tell them? Nothing personal to tell _me_? Grandmother, I-"

Rowena sighed. She could clearly see the little boy he had once been - her first grandchild. Her little Ceridwen's firstborn. The bridge that healed the aching chasm that had opened between Godric and Ceridwen following her union with Aiden.

"Raymond… You know I love you all more than anything. You are my family. But no one will really miss me when I go. I have lived my life to the fullest and I regret nothing. It is simply time for me to go. Let me leave, Raymond; I have nothing left here. Allow me to leave peacefully."

She felt her eyes well up as his lip trembled, causing his six and a half decades old body materialize in front of her eyes to that of the seven year old she had cradled in her arms after he had fallen and scraped his knees. She blinked, and the figure faded. A grown man nodded and hugged her fiercely for the first time in over twenty years - a real hug that was not the cautious embrace all of her offspring gave her these days.

"I will, Grandmother," he said, his voice cracking. He picked up the parchments and the parcels. "Give my love to Grandfather, will you?"

With those words, he turned from her and left without looking back.

Sir Raymond of the Loch, denizen of the village of Hogsmeade, was the last one to have seen Rowena Ravenclaw among the living.

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Rowena's footsteps echoed in the empty halls beneath Hogwarts. The students were all in the Great Hall, eating their dinner, as were all the teachers. She was grateful for that.

The dungeons had always been Salazar's domain. He had liked them because only there all his pet snakes felt at home, and he had liked making his friends comfortable. She still remembered him hissing softly to Maureen, his very first slithering friend she had known, and chuckling at some obscure comment she had made.

She did not venture into the dungeons a lot after Salazar had left. It held in store too many memories. It ignited a chain of recollections that always ended with the same questions. It always left her wondering whether she could have done something to stop him, or what would have happened were she to convince the two stubborn men to talk things over calmly. She also agonized over what would have happened were she to run after Salazar instead of after Godric. Godric would have forgiven her - in the end. So many '_what if_'s that will remain unanswered…

That was why she disliked going there. Truth be told, she had been there only three times since Salazar's departure: once when Helga had died and they had decided she should be buried beneath the Castle, once during that horrible winter almost thirty years before, when the lake had overflowed and filled the dungeons with water and once when Godric had died.

Pain flooded her heart. She missed him _so_ much. Soon, though, she dispelled the thought from her mind. This was strictly business, she reminded herself. Just as long as she thought of it as business she would not break down and cry, risking being discovered.

Her footsteps went on echoing as she descended down that last flight of stairs. It would be sealed soon enough, she knew.

The crypt was cold. Two of the four tombs standing at its precise center were closed, and had elaborately carved stone effigies on top of their lids.

"Hello, Helga," she greeted softly, her fingers caressing the cold cheek of the figure of the woman who had been more of a little sister than a friend. "I've been neglecting you, have I not? I promise that I will make it all up to you."

She then continued to the second closed tomb, and bent to kiss the stone lips of the figure of her husband.

"I miss you," she whispered. "More than you would ever know."

Rowena could not explain why she needed to do that. She just felt like she had to see them one last time with mortal eyes.

With a sigh, she left the crypt.

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She snuck out of Hogwarts almost like thief in the night. A black cloak covered her entire body, hiding her, enveloping her within the darkness. She did not want to be seen. People might think she had lost her mind and try confining her to her rooms, effectually denying her what she still had to do.

She walked quickly, almost at a run, around the lake to the place where it met with the stream feeding it.

She stopped at the stream's bank and gathered her skirts up above her ankles, chewed her lower lip for a moment, contemplating whether it was really the wisest thing to do, then she took a deep breath and walked into the icy stream.

_It had better be there, Helga, or I will have your head for it next time I see you,_ she thought as she grimly pulled out her wand and charmed her shoes dry.

It had been over thirty years since Helga had told her of the place. It had been right before her death. Rowena found herself wondering how her friend could have had gotten herself all that way away from the Castle unaided.

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_"'Wena… 'Wena… please - just listen to me," Helga pleaded, coughing. _

_"There's time enough to speak when you are feeling better," Rowena said firmly. "Rest and be well."_

_"I'm not going to be well again, Rowena. Don't lie to yourself and don't lie to me. I respect and love you too much to allow you that. Please, just listen to me for a little while. Then I will rest."_

_There was almost nothing left of Rowena's old friend. She had only her cheerfulness left, and even that abandoned her at times since she fell ill, when the pain was too much to take. Helga was so pale, so old. She looked older than Rowena, with her hair turned snowy white, her face a mask of delicate lines and her eyes no longer seeing well._

_Rowena sighed. "Very well, Helga, speak - but only for a little while."_

_"I'll be gone soon, Raven, but I need you to promise me one thing."_

_"Only one thing?" Rowena tried to jest a little, but Helga would have none of that._

_"Stop it, Rowena! I don't have time for that! Listen carefully, at the edge of the Loch, where it meets its source, there's a shallow crossing - much like the ones we used back home."_

_"Back home?" Rowena interrupted. "Surely you don't mean-"_

_"But I do, Raven," Helga laughed. "Home is still Caerwyn - even after all these years."_

_Rowena started protesting. For her the Glen and the Valley stopped being a home a long time ago, but as Helga broke into another fit of hacking coughs, she kept it to herself and let her friend go on. _

_"Once you cross the stream, you will find yourself walking through a slightly rocky area. A little distance to the right of the crossing you will find an old Oak. Between its roots I have put something for you. I want you to go there when you know your time has come."_

_"No one knows when their time comes, Helga. You can't expect me to-"_

_"I _know_ you, Rowena," Helga said stubbornly, holding tightly to the sleeves of Rowena's gown. "If anyone can know when their time has come it's _you_. You _will_ go there. I know it… I know it…"_

_"But-" Rowena tried again._

_"Promise me, Rowena!"_

_"I-"_

_"Promise me!"_

_"I promise…"_

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Soon after that Helga had died. She died in her sleep, and when the grief-stricken Ilar had called Rowena and Godric over in the morning, Rowena vowed to keep her promise. There was no question about it. Rowena was not going to disrespect her friend's - no, her _sister_'s last wish. The time has come, and Helga was right. Rowena _did_ know.

Her destination was clear ahead. It was a giant Oak, so similar to the one at the mouth of the Glen, under which they had met so many times all those years ago - the one from which branches they had pelted passersby with acorns.

Rowena stifled a sob.

It had been such a long time ago. Those two girls were long gone. All those memories seemed to belong to someone else. These were the memories of a simple country girl, not those of an old teacher.

A teacher. That was all she was known as these days. All those who had known her when she was a mighty leader of the anti-Council act were long dead.

With fresh determination she neared the tree and bent in the damp soil to pull the small watertight box she knew would be waiting there from between its roots.

She stared at the box for a long time, her fingers lingering over the moist wood, lightly touching the tiny lock. At that touch, there was a small clicking sound and the box cracked open ever so slightly.

With trembling fingers she opened the box. Inside was only a slip of old parchment, on which was written in Helga's loopy handwriting:

"_To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure._

"_My dearest sister, I cannot wait to see you again. Come home, beloved friend. _

"_Yours for always and for ever,_

"_Helga._"

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When they found Rowena Ravenclaw's still body the next morning after an extensive search conducted by worried students, teachers and family, she had a soft smile on her calm, pale face. It seemed like the wrinkles on her thin face straightened and that she was once again young.

Sir Raymond, who was the one to carry the feather-light body back to Hogwarts, could only be comforted in his grief by one thing.

In his imagination, his stern grandmother was once again the young woman his grandfather had fallen in love with, the one he had only known through the portraits done for his mother's and uncle's births. He could see her well, her auburn hair flowing in a light breeze, her hazel eyes glowing with ill-suppressed excitement, pushing through a dark veil and finding herself with her beloved Godric again.

She was home.

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And thus, with the departure of the fourth Founder of Hogwarts and the last of the great wielders of magic of the time, ended the Golden Era of the Wizarding World, and the earth itself prepared to enter a new age in which many an adventure would occur. But those adventures are someone else's to tell. Our tale ends here and remains entombed within the pages of history. A tale of magic. A tale of Knights. A tale of love.

_A tale of a time long gone._

**The End**

**A/N:** That was it! Goodbye, my friends - hopefully we shall meet again. I'm sorry for pilfering Dumbledore's line, but I felt as though Rowena needed that comfort, knowing that her friend was still with her even though she had died long before, and that line was just perfect for that.

And now, **MY ANNOUNCEMENT:**

Next week I am planning on uploading the first chapter (or rather, the prologue) of this story's _prequel_. It is called **_Fall From Grace_**, and will feature the lives and loves of Ryan and Rosalind Ravenclaw, Gawain and Ceridwen Gryffindor, Searlas and Seraphine Slytherin, Ambrosius, Sir Rhys and the whole lot before the Founders came along. If for some reason my plans are foiled, then the aforementioned prologue would appear in _two _weeks.

**I hope to see you all there, for the brand-new adventures (or rather, age-old ones ;) ) of all those characters who were only mentioned, or appeared at the sidelines of Tale. In the meanwhile, for those who liked my style, I have another story posted here, which portrays the Marauders era - if it interests you, then I'd be happy if you go and take a look!**

**Thank you all once again for reading my story and sticking with it through thick and thin, ice and fire, four months of update-lack and all my other weird quirks.**

**I love you all and I hope to see you all again!**

**Hugs and kisses,**

**-Star of the North**


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